


Passion is the Gale

by Sirenfish (riversidewren)



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Because Billy gets shortchanged in every damn season, F/M, Leading up to Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 36,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8491273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riversidewren/pseuds/Sirenfish
Summary: "What I'm trying to say," he said, his voice hoarse, "-is that if I were to be charged with protecting you, things could…" His cheek brushed against hers for an instant, and she found the sensation more sensual than she could have possibly imagined. "Could what?" she whispered. "Get complicated," he muttered. "Very complicated." A woman from Billy's past shows up in Nassau, setting off a sequence of events that force him to make a difficult choice.





	1. Which Serv'd the Past

**I.**

_On life's vast ocean diversely we sail,_  
_Reason the card, but passion is the gale_

Alexander Pope, An Epistle on Man

* * *

 

The beach at Nassau was quiet in the hour before dawn. Billy, grunting as he turned over on his side, awoke to the soothing sound of waves lapping against the pure white sand. For a moment, he was disoriented by the sensation of solid ground beneath his body. Over the past four years, the incessant rocking of a ship had been the one constant feature of his daily life. He had rarely slept on dry land since he had been wrenched from his family at the age of seventeen,and had long dreamed of a night spent sleeping rough on one of he inviting beaches of New Providence Island. Now, however, he flexed his aching back, regretting that he had no spent the night in the familiar confines of his salt-stained hammock. Would it have been any different if he had slept in a bed?

_A proper bed. Would I even feel comfortable in one anymore?_

He sighed, then sat up, running a hand over his closely cropped hair. Stretching out his long legs, he stared out at the ocean. The palest blush of dawn was visible at the edge of the horizon. The sea glinted in the light of the retreating moon, hints of silver dancing across the waves. He rarely had a time to savor the peace of the early morning hours, and was struck again by how breathtakingly beautiful the Caribbean could be.

And how very far away it was from the life he had been meant to lead.

Before he had been taken by the press gang, a clear path in life had stretched out before him, devoid of any major question marks. His father ran a small print shop specializing in prayer books, with a large side business in broadsides with a political bent. As the eldest son, Billy would take over the shop as he grew into adulthood, and marry a pretty girl from a good, God-fearing family. Their rosy-cheeked children would be raised in the same set of rooms over the shop where he and his siblings had spent their formative years.

_What if…_

_What if he had never taken those leaflets to the docks that evening?_

_What if he had not fought the men that had stopped him, but had simply fled?_

_Before he had gone down to the docks that night, he had ducked into the kitchen to give his mother a quick hug._

_The delicious smell wafting from the pot simmering over the fire had made his stomach rumble. His mother, catching his longing glance, had given him a smile._

_"Chicken stew, your favorite. Don't be late."_

_"I won't!" he had called, giving her a cheeky grin as he swiped a biscuit from the table._

_"Billy Manderley, you'll be the death of me yet!" She had put her hands on her hips, a fond look on her face. "Off with you, now!"_

_What if..._

Those words had the tendency to float through his brain whenever he had a rare moment of peace. He closed his eyes, willing the images of his former life to retreat from his mind. Ever since he had joined Captain Flint's crew, time for introspection had been few and far between. In fact, he had come to welcome the mind-numbing hours of back-breaking toil on the Walrus. At least when he collapsed into his hammock at night, his body was too exhausted to do anything but succumb to sleep. And the next morning, he was clear-eyed and ready for duty.

_Not like those stupid fucks who decided to spend last night at the brothel._

He had been incredulous when Flint had granted the men a night of shore leave.

_"Are you insane? These men have been have been penned up on this ship for four weeks, most of it in shit weather. The rigging has taken a beating, and we have less than forty-eight hours to make all the necessary repairs. If you give the crew liberty, ten to one that less than twenty percent make it back by the appointed hour."_

_"You're probably right," replied the Captain calmly, leaning back in his chair._

_Billy crossed his arms across his chest, giving him a dark look. "That's what you want, isn't it?"_

_"Any man who doesn't make it back in a timely fashion will be disciplined. Eight lashes at the mast-as well as being banned from shore leave for the next two port calls. Those who report for duty on time will have their leave doubled next time we return to Nassau." He glanced up at the boatswain, his blue eyes cold. "The battle lines have been drawn, Billy. I need to remind every man on this ship that I can make his life hell if he chooses to defy my orders."_

_"And just how do you propose to make sure this happens?" the boatswain snapped. "I don't expect you'll be back from Mrs. Barlow's before we're up in the rigging at daybreak." The moment the words were out of his mouth, Billy regretted them. Flint rose from his chair, the veins in his neck bulging in fury._

_"I propose that you get your head in the right place, and do your fucking job," he snarled. "Spend the night off this damn ship for once. Have a drink, find a woman, pick a fight-do whatever the hell you need to do to defuse some of the anger that's been fueling you for the past month. Because God knows my temper is short right about now."_

_Billy gave him a hard stare, then nodded curtly. "Understood."_

He had elected to spend the night on the beach, seeking the solitude that he often craved after living in close quarters with a throng of unwashed men day after day-some of them trustworthy and dependable, others shifty and conniving on their best days. As he stood up and pulled his boots back on, the wind shifted subtly. Dark clouds covered the fading moon, bearing the promise of rain.

_Shit. Nothing better than starting off a punishing day of labor in a tropical storm._

He headed up the sand, and decided to take a direct path back to the docks. It meant passing through an area of Nassau that he made a habit of avoiding- the small enclave inhabited by respectable people. There was a white clapboard Anglican church, a tight circle of well-kept, modest homes, and a smattering of shops. Billy had seen the quarter once from a distance, and had regretted ever setting eyes on it.

His gut had twisted painfully when he had seen the tidy flowerbeds outside the small cottages. The colorful blooms had reminded him of England-as had the laughing children playing tag. Billy had always had a gift for relating to children, although it was increasingly hard for him to recall that once upon a time, he had been a gangling, tow-headed boy who had loved nothing more than exploring the docks with his dog at his heels.

Now, however, the streets were deserted. A light drizzle began to fall, and the wind picked up. The palm trees swayed in the wind, rustling above the cobblestone streets. A corpulent man in the dark suit of a Anglican clergyman crossed the street in front of him, glancing at the young man nervously as he eyed the pistol secured at his waist.

Billy met his gaze, but kept his hands relaxed at his side. It began to rain in earnest then, and the priest darted across a small park, eager to put distance between himself and the bronzed young pirate.

_We're all the same to him. Me, de Groot, Vane, Flint...he sees us all as men who are destined for hell. Funny part is, I've already been living in hell for the past five years._

Thunder boomed in the distance, and lighting flashed over the still slumbering settlement. Billy sighted an awning down a side street, and took refuge under it for a moment, wiping the rain from his face. As he leaned against the peeling wooden door, the aroma of freshly baked bread drifted from the small shop next door. For a man accustomed to eating hardtack for weeks at a time, the smell was almost intoxicating. Billy's mouth began to water, but then he remembered where he was, and dismissed any thought of going into the bakery.

_Those places aren't for the likes of us._

He had turned to go when his nose detected a scent that froze him in his tracks-the sweet notes of cinnamon, currants, and sugar, blended together in an olfactory symphony that brought him back to his childhood in an instant.

_Chelsea buns._

They were one of the few store-bought treats he had been allowed on special days-days like his birthday...which was now a day like any other day. He remembered the anticipation that had come with being given a halfpenny to spend at Davies' Bakehouse. The wind picked up, flinging sheets of rain against the buildings. Billy stepped back against the wall, regarding the sky with a practiced eye. There would be another at least another ten to fifteen minutes of nasty weather before the squall let up any of its intensity.

A small barrel skittered past him, gusts of wind driving it down the center of the street. An instant later, a shutter flew open on the front of the bakery, banging against the wall. A slender young woman fought to open the door against the force of the forty mile an hour winds, and finally succeeded in budging it open a bit. She peered out, held her breath for a moment, then dashed to the shutter.

Just as she grasped it, the wind tore it from her hands. As the piece of wood connected with her head, she stumbled backwards, and fell. Billy leaped forward, and managed to catch her just before she hit the ground.

"Are you alright, miss?" he asked, shouting in order to be heard over the downpour.

Her dark hair was plastered across her face, and she appeared to still be dazed. She shook her head, then nodded, and swayed in his arms.

"I'll take that as a no." He slipped an arm under her knees, and lifted her easily into his arms, cradling her against his broad chest.

Shoving the door open with his foot, he backed into it, pushing his way into the shop. The door slammed shut behind him, and the maelstrom of the storm receded into a dull roar.

He set his burden down gently on the low bench in front of the counter, and knelt in front of her. "You're bleeding," he murmured, his fingers tracing the outlines of a nasty gash at the edge of her hairline. "May I take a look?"

She swallowed, then reluctantly nodded her assent. "I don't believe it's too bad."

He looked up for an instant to catch her grimacing, the pain etched on her face belying her words.

"I might have been injured far worse if you hadn't happened along. I cannot thank you enough. Such kindness is rarely seen in Nassau."

"I like to believe that charity covers a multitude of sins," he replied, keeping his voice light as he tore off a piece of his shirt and held pressure on her cut.

She stilled under his touch, her breathing quickening. "I once knew someone who was fond of that saying. He lived around the corner from me in Kensington. Then one day he vanished...it was as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth."

He felt his heart stop in his chest, and he swallowed. Ever so slowly, he lifted his eyes, hardly daring to hope that he would find himself looking into a pair of moss green eyes.

"Meg?"

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she put her hand on his. "Billy? Is it really you?"

In an instant, she was in his arms, crying as if her heart would break.

* * *

 

**I recently finished all three seasons of Black Sails in a matter of days. I very much like the backstory the writers have created for Billy, and decided to play with it a bit. I own nothing except the character of Meg.**


	2. Whose Hand the Lightning Forms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter update this time...if you have a moment, let me know what you think.

**II.**

Meg closed her eyes as Billy stroked her hair, speaking to her in a soft, soothing voice, The pounding of her heart slowly began to subside, as did her sobs. Their clothes were soaked from being caught in the downpour, but her discomfort lessened as the warmth of his body began to diffuse into her core. It been some time since anyone had held her with such tenderness, and she had almost forgotten what is was like to feel safe. For the first time since that terrible night six months ago, she felt some measure of peace.

He cradled her face in his hands, and rested his forehead against hers. "Better?"

Meg nodded as he swept the last of her tears from her cheek with his thumb.

Resting one hand lightly on his forearm, she murmured, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so emotional. It's just-we've been here in Nassau for nigh on four months now, but it's been a difficult adjustment for me. Seeing you brought back so many memories..."

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "You don't need to make up excuses, Meg. It's alright to say that you missed me,"

She laughed, then blushed and lowered her eyes, suddenly feeling very shy. "Why don't I get you something to eat? I'm sure you haven't had time for a decent breakfast. I've got Chelsea buns and fresh baked rolls, just out of the oven."

Billy's smile broadened. "You have no idea how heavenly that sounds right now."

Meg stepped away, missing his touch almost immediately. Heat rose to her cheeks, and she studiously avoided eye contact with him, focusing on piling a small plate with baked goods. Billy wandered around the small shop, squatting down to inspect a loose floorboard.

"This should be fixed. Do you have a hammer?"

A few moments later, he was fitting the board securely into place. Meg couldn't help but steal a glance at him at he worked. He was completely absorbed in the task, handling the hammer with obvious skill. The lantern cast a soft glow over him, highlighting his muscular arms and bronzed skin. He hummed a tune under his breath, and she found herself smiling as she watched.

He glanced up apologetically. "I'm almost done. Sorry it's taking so long."

Meg reached for a cloth, covering the plate she had waiting for him. "I'm so grateful to you for repairing it. I've tripped over it twice in the past three days. It was really only a matter of time before someone fell."

He stood up, giving the finished result one last look. "Then it's a good job that I happened along when I did."

"It's so hard to believe," she murmured, her voice catching slightly. "What were the odds of us ever seeing each other again?"

Billy came over to the counter, leaning against it as he picked up one of the buns. "I've learned not to focus on the odds. They have a way of changing just when you least expect it."

Meg watched him finish off his breakfast, her chin resting in her palm. After a few moments of silence, he set down the steaming mug of tea she had given him, and took her hand in his. He fixed his gaze on her, his blue eyes clear and steady. "I have to ask you something. What did you think when you first recognized me?"

"I thought-" she hesitated, then whispered, "You look so-different."

Billy chuckled. "I expect I've filled out a bit-as have you." His eyes dropped to the modest neckline of her dress for just an instant. She felt a flush steal across her face, and Billy squeezed her hand gently. "I don't mean to be coarse-or to embarrass you. But the fact is, you've blossomed into a lovely young woman, Meg." A wistful look crossed his face. I imagine you must be married by now-with a handsome husband who worships you, one or two adorable toddlers, and a cat that curls up in your lap when you sit by the fire at night." He released her hand and stepped back, seeming to suddenly become conscious of the intimacy of the moment.

"Alas, I have no husband or children-not even a cat," she said lightly. "But enough about me- look at you! When we were children, you always said you wanted to see the world outside of London some day….and here you are, living a life of adventure in the Caribbean!"

He rubbed his neck, his eyes growing distant as he glanced out the window at the rain. "It seems as though fate's idea of adventure was vastly different from mine."

Meg sensed the shift in his mood, and searched for a way to steer the conversation in a different direction. Her eyes skipped to the wooden beads looped around his neck. She smiled, tentatively reaching out to finger one of the strings. "You look like one of the men I've seen congregating around the ships in the harbor. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were a proper pirate."

Billy shifted uncomfortably, and her gaze dropped to the pistol at his waist.

_How had she not noticed it before?_

A short dagger was tucked into his belt, the metal blade gleaming in the light of the lantern. She took a step back, her throat tightening.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "It's not possible...the Billy Manderley I knew would never sail under the black."

He was silent for a moment, then cleared his throat. "I should go."

He turned to leave, and she couldn't stop herself.

"Tell me it isn't true!"

He braced one hand against the door, the muscles of his back tightening against his shirt. He glanced back for just an instant, his expression etched with pain. "The last thing I want to do is hurt you, but I won't lie to you, Meg. Remember me as I was, and forget you ever saw me today."

Opening the door, he slipped out into the dull roar of the storm, and vanished from her sight.

As Billy jogged along the streets of Nassau, the sky began to clear, and the sun shone just above the horizon.

_Shit._

He hadn't realized how much time had gone by. Picking up the pace, he finally reached the beach, and sighted the familiar lines of the _Walrus_. She lay bobbing at anchor in the center of the harbor, her sails neatly furled. The crew were lined up along the railing, awaiting the morning's orders. A flash of copper caught Billy's eye, and his heart sank. Flint was already on board.

When Billy stepped onto the deck, he stood and faced the men. "Those of you who were ready for duty on time are a credit to this ship, I see that some of my deck crew are missing, and they will be punished for their lack of discipline. I myself have fallen short of the mark. I apologize to you, and to the Captain, for my dereliction of duty"

He stripped off his shirt, then turned to Flint, who gave him a brief nod. Going to the mast, Billy faced the roughened wood. Broad back laid bare, he braced himself and waited for the hiss of the whip. When the lash finally made contact with his skin, he gritted his teeth, and uttered not a sound for the first seven strokes.

When the eighth came, he grunted, and bit back a moan. As he straightened up, a trickle of blood ran down his back. Shrugging his shirt back on, Billy ignored the searing pain, and went to stand off to the side.

A sympathetic voice spoke up next to him. "I'm hoping she was worth it, because that looked incredibly painful."

Billy stared straight ahead. "Fuck you, Silver."


	3. Teach Us to Mourn

**III.**

They had been back out to sea for a good three days before Flint spoke to Billy. It was close to sunset, and most of the men had already gone below to eat dinner. Dark clouds were scudding towards them from the north, signaling a squall that was not far off. Billy had been up in the rigging, checking one last time on the repairs that had been made during their brief respite on land. As he climbed down and set foot on the deck, he saw the Captain leaning against the railing, watching him.

"How does the rigging look?"

"The men did a good job," Billy replied. "The new lines and gaffes should serve us well going into hurricane season."

"Good."

Billy turned and began to coil the halyard. After a few moments, Flint spoke up again.

"So, are you going to tell me why you were late returning from liberty?"

The boatswain stiffened, but continued to slide the rope through his hands. "There's nothing to tell." He shrugged. "Bitch of a storm that moming."

"Unaccustomed as you are to inclement weather, I can see how that would be a problem."

The sarcasm in Flint's voice was cutting, and Billy slowly pivoted to face him. "I acknowledged my error, and took my punishment without complaint. What more do you want from me?"

The captain took a step closer, his blue eyes glittering with malice. "I need to know that I can count on you-that you're not actively currying resentment against me."

The boatswain looked down at him, his expression was unreadable. " Have I given you reason to doubt my loyalty?"

"Have you given me reason to not?"

Billy gave a bitter laugh. "If you think I'm the biggest threat on this ship, you are seriously deluded. I would suggest you take a closer look at some of our more recent acquisitions-Mr. Silver for one."

"Oh, I have my eye on that one already," Flint murmured. "I just wanted to make sure that you and I understand each other. We'll be back in Nassau in five days. When we arrive, I have a task in mind for you."

xxxxxx

Meg sighed, and pushed an errant lock of hair out of her face. Her corset felt more constricting than usual in the hot, humid weather of a Nassau evening. As she stood at the small window in her bedroom, desperate to catch a bit of breeze, a trickle of sweat slowly slid down her back. She wondered if she would ever get used to the weather on the island. How did someone from England ever learn to think of this as normal? How had Billy adapted?

_Billy_.

It had been over a week since he had walked out of the shop.

_Remember me as I was, and forget you ever saw me today._

But she could not.

Every time she closed her eyes, Meg could feel his arms around her. She saw his dark blue eyes looking down at her, a boyish grin stealing across his face as he teased her.

_It's alright to say that you missed me._

She hadn't realized how much until that day. The ache had been there all along, buried deep within her heart. Now it had resurfaced as a raw, searing pain, present from the moment she woke up until the time she went to sleep. He even haunted her dreams.

_This was not really about Billy_.

How could it be? They had grown up together, but she had been two years younger, the best friend of his little sister-a child in his eyes. This was about all he represented.

_England. Home. Safety. Laughter. Kindness._

Unbidden tears welled in her eyes, and she brushed them away, taking in a deep breath to steady herself.

_This is my life now. All I can do is make the best of it._

Exhausted, she laid down on her bed. Minutes later, she was asleep.

When Meg awoke, it was still dark, and there was a steady rain drumming against the roof. Her back still ached from the day before, but she forced herself out of bed. She quickly washed and dressed, then descended the stairs to the shop.

Glancing at the wood bin next to the oven, she saw that it was almost empty, and groaned. The kindling was kept in the small storage shed that stood in the alley behind the shop, and she always hated rummaging around there in the dark. Unlocking the back door, she stepped out, and almost fell over a body that was huddled on the doorstep.

She gasped, her heart pounding in her chest when she saw the dark splotches of blood covering the man's clothes. An instant later, she recognized him, and true panic set in.

"Billy?" She was at his side at an instant, his face in her hands. "Billy, can you hear me?!"

He opened his eyes slowly, relief washing over his face.

"Meg," he whispered. "I knew if I could just make it here, you'd help me. I only need one thing from you-I'll ask nothing else. Just get me to the harbor-to my ship."

"You're not going anywhere, William Manderley-not until I tend to you."

"William?" He made a half-hearted attempt at a smile, then began to cough. "Now I know I'm in trouble. I'd love to oblige you, princess, but if I don't get to that ship by daybreak, my life is forfeit."

He went to get up, and winced, his hand going to his right thigh. Meg's gaze followed, and her eyes widened when she saw the blood-soaked makeshift bandage wrapped around his leg.

"For God's sake, Billy! Please let me at least gather a salve and some clean bandages."

He was silent for a moment, then gave her a nod. "Quickly. Two minutes, no more!"

Meg flew through the shop to the storeroom upstairs, seizing a small satchel on the way. She headed straight for the cabinet where her mother had stored the herbs used to treat various ailments.

Her hand hovered over several small bottles before plucking all of them out of the cupboard. A stack of clean white linen bandages, along with three jars of salve, joined them. Securing the clasp to the bag, she rushed downstairs and back outside. Billy had managed to haul himself upright. He was leaning against the wall, his breathing shallow.

"Have you a horse?" he murmured, swaying slightly.

She caught his arm, steadying him. "No, I don't. What good would it do, anyway? You're in no condition to get on a horse."

"I'll have to walk," he muttered, starting forward.

Meg stepped in front of him. "If I'm going to help you, we are doing it my way. Arm around my neck."

To her surprise, Billy complied without argument.

_He's weaker than he's willing to admit._

"There's a shortcut to the beach that you may not be aware of," she said in a low voice as they headed down the street, keeping to the shadows. "We'll have to cut through the graveyard, but it'll cut the distance in half."

"Do you have access to a boat? The _Walrus_ is anchored in the middle of the harbor."

"The _Walrus_?" Meg halted and stared at him, her stomach gathering into knots. "You're part of Captain Flint's crew?"

"Not if I'm dead," he said bluntly, starting forward once again.

"There is a boat we can use. Tobias has given permission-"

Billy stopped this time, his eyes searching hers. "Not Tobias Nelson?"

"He saved my life, Billy."

"And he'll never let you forget it, will he?" Billy's voice was bitter now. "Please tell me you aren't promised to him."

"There is no formal understanding," Meg said carefully.

In the next instant, she found herself in his arms. "Promise me," he muttered, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. "Promise me you won't marry him, no matter what."

"I-I-"

His mouth dropped to her ear, his breath warm on her skin. "I would sooner see you a nun than marry the likes of him. He is not worth the ground you walk on. Now promise me."

"I promise," she whispered.

"Thank you." He clung to her for a moment, his lips brushing against her hair. "Now if I am to die, I can at least know that you are safe."

When they reached the harbor, it took Meg a moment to orient herself. The boats, easily distinguished by day, all looked alike at night.

"Which one is it?" Billy glanced over his shoulder, scanning the beach for any potential threats.

"I'm not sure," she faltered. Her eyes then fell on a skiff twenty yards away from them. "There! The one pulled up a little farther onto the sand."

"Good girl." Billy squeezed her hand. Two minutes later, they had secured the skiff.

He turned to her, gently easing the satchel off her shoulder. "I owe you my life, Meg. I hope some day to be able to repay the debt."

"You owe me nothing," she said softly. "Just promise me-"

A shot rang out, the sound thunderous on the quiet beach. An instant later, Meg was lying flat in the skiff, Billy's body shielding her from the hail of bullets that rained around them.


	4. The Great Chain That Draws All

 

**IV.**

Meg's cheek was pressed against the rough wood of the flat-bottomed boat. The smell of tepid salt water rose to her nostrils, causing bile to rise in her throat. The only thing that kept her from panicking completely was the reassuring beat of Billy's heart against her back...that, and his smooth, calm voice.

"Listen to me, sweetheart. You are safe with me. I just need for you to do exactly as I say-without hesitation. Can you do that for me?" His hand reached for hers, enveloping it in a warm, reassuring grasp.

"Yes. Just tell me what to do." She tried to keep her voice steady, but it sounded small and unsure to her ears.

"Right. Can you swim?"

She gulped, and shook her head. Another shot was fired, hitting the small boat next to them.

"Fu-" Billy caught himself. "First chance we get, I'm teaching you. It's bloody insane to live on an island and not know how to swim. But what I'm going to have to do right now is tow us out into the harbor. No matter what you hear, stay down-just as you are now. Do you understand?"

"But Billy, you're injured..you can't-"

"Meg, we have no choice." His voice was tense, and she realized he was well aware of the danger they were in.

"Be careful." Her voice caught for an instant, and she forced it into a more teasing tone. "Only because you've just promised me swimming lessons, and I intend to hold you to that."

He chuckled, and flashed her a grin. "What you really mean is that you've only just realized how much you've missed having me around."

With that, he vaulted out of the skiff. An instant later, more shots, closer now, were fired. A bullet skipped off the gunwale, missing Meg by inches. As the skiff slid into the water, she was thrown against the low bench.

A shout came from the left. "You're a fuckin' dead man, Billy Bones! You're not gettin' away this time!"

Meg curled into a ball, her heart pounding as she felt Billy give a savage tug on the rope that was attached to the skiff. The vessel shot across the low water, then slowed as it hit the first ripple of waves. She heard a splash, and surmised that Billy had started swimming, pulling the boat along behind him. A bullet pierced the wood below her foot, creating a hole below the water line. Water began to stream into the bottom of the boat. Meg tried to remain calm, but minutes later, she was two inches deep in seawater.

"Billy! There's a hole in the boat-it's filling up with water!"

"Find it and plug it up with something-anything!" he called. "You can do it, Meg!"

The moon had passed behind some clouds, and the skiff was shrouded in darkness. She pivoted on her belly to face the back end of the boat, and ran her hands over the sides, searching for any indication of where the bullet had struck home. Finally, her fingers found a gaping hole near the stern. The vessel had clearly seen better days, and the impact of the shell had shattered a section of weathered wood.

Meg reached under her skirt and tore off a piece of her cotton chemise. Molding it into a small ball, she forced it into the hole, only to find out that it was too small. She bit back a cry of frustration, and tore off another piece of her undergarment. That piece fit nicely, but the cotton but was much too thin to be an effective seal.

"I can't do it!" she cried out, just barely holding back the tears. "It's going to sink...there's just no way I can stop it!"

Billy was at the side of the skiff in an instant. "Don't panic. First and foremost, you cannot lose your head. I want you to take my hand, then jump. I won't let go."

"I can't!" Meg had always been afraid of the ocean, and this particular scenario was her worst nightmare come true.

"You can." He kept his voice soothing, but captured her hand in an iron grip.

Any semblance of reason fled from her brain. "Don't pull me in!" she sobbed. "I can't swim-I'll drown, and they'll never find my body!"

"Margaret, if you want to live, you have to make a choice-right here, right now!" As the moon emerged from behind the bank of clouds, he made his move. Before Meg even realized what was happening, she was in the water, hanging on to Billy for dear life as she coughed and spluttered. Billy looped an arm around her, forcing her onto her back. "Lie back, look up at the stars, and let me do the work," he murmured. "We're halfway to the _Walrus_ already." He tilted her head to the side, his blue eyes infusing hope into her heart. "Trust me, Meg. I won't let go."

"I trust you," she gasped, trying to relax her body as he began to swim, towing her along with him.

"Good," he replied, his voice hoarse, but determined. "I promised I wouldn't let anything happen to you, and I mean to keep that promise-no matter what."

Just as the words were out of his mouth, a shot from their pursuers whizzed past their heads, slicing into the water a foot away.

He muttered a string of curses under his breath, and redoubled his efforts. Despite this, Meg could sense that his strength was waning. There was no doubt he had lost quite a bit of blood before he had made it to her doorstep, and she suspected that he was bleeding once again as he pushed himself to the limit.

Two more pistols fired, and Meg winced, feeling a burning pain in her left arm.

"They're getting closer," she said, astounded by how calm her voice sounded.

The only answer she received was the sound of Billy's harsh breathing. His pace had slowed, and Meg could feel his chest heaving against her back as he struggled to keep a steady pace.

"You hold on tight to the girl, Billy!" A mocking shout floated across the water to them. "We'll enjoy fuckin' her once we dispatch you to the bottom of the ocean!"

The sound of oars skimming through the water came to their ears, and Meg's heart began to hammer in her chest. Billy held her closer, his voice low with fury. "Don't listen to a word they say! The bastards want us to give up-and I'll be damned if I do that."

The voice goading them was quite close now, the tone almost conversational as the boat pulled within a few yards of them. "One chance to surrender, Billy! If you do, we'll grant you a merciful death!"

The boatswain ignored their pursuers, keeping his eyes focused on the _Walrus_ , which was now a mere ten yards away.

_To be so close...so damnably close._

As the sound of a pistol cocking reverberated across the water, he wanted to scream in frustration-but he kept pushing through the water, his lungs burning as his leg throbbed with pain.

The boom of a cannon crashed into the still night air an instant later, and the boat closing in on them was blown to bits. Billy threw a protective hand across Meg's eyes as shards of wood rained down around them. Screams of agony were cut short by a second cannonball.

In what seemed like seconds, they were climbing a steep rope ladder. Billy followed Meg, encouraging her when she faltered. She clung to the swaying ladder, afraid to look down at the dark water slapping against the massive ship. As she neared the top, Billy called out, "I've a female guest comin' aboard! Mind your manners-and your hands!"

A pair of large, grimy hands reached out for Meg, pulling her onto the deck with ease. Billy swung down next to her instant later, and took up a protective stance in front of her. Although it was not yet dawn, a sizable proportion of the crew had gathered round, many eyeing the dark-haired young woman with open interest.

"Where's the Captain?"

"With DeGroot," one of the men answered. "They've been waitin' for you for hours, Billy Boy. Couldn't figure out what was takin' you so long-though I guess we know why now." He leered at Meg, and Billy knocked him to the ground with a vicious punch to the jaw. He drew up to his full height, glaring at the circle around him.

"Anyone else?" he snarled.

The rest of the men melted into the night, silently taking up their positions.

"Sorry about that," said Billy briefly, taking Meg by the hand. "Some of the crew lack-breeding, shall we say?" He led her on a winding path through the ship, at last halting at a heavy wooden door.

"Captain Flint?" whispered Meg, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.

Billy nodded, and suddenly paled as the ship rocked, swaying against her as he gripped his thigh.

Meg looked down at his leg, and saw that his hand was covered in blood. She gasped, and put a steadying arm around him, banging on the door with her free hand.

A terse voice bid them enter. Billy steadied himself, and reached for the handle. As the door swung open, he took one step inside, then slumped to the floor.


	5. Chaos of Thought

**V.**

Meg was at Billy's side in an instant, her hands applying firm pressure to the bleeding wound on his leg. Seconds later, she was pushed to the side by a strong, imposing man with copper-colored hair. From his air of authority, she presumed he was none other than the infamous Captain Flint. With intense, almost desperate, energy, he seized the boatswain's shirt, lifting his head off the ground. Billy remained unresponsive, his head lolling to the side.

"Did you see it done?" he hissed.

When no response was forthcoming, the Captain shook Billy roughly, and raised his voice to a near shout. "I said.. did you see it done?!"

"For God's sake, leave him alone!" Meg cried out.

Flint ignored her, his attention completely focused on the man in front him.

"Done," Billy rasped, his eyes still closed. "Cut his throat myself." He went limp, and Flint lowered him to the ground.

"Give the order," he muttered.

"Yes, Captain." Another man left the room, closing the door behind him.

Flint stood up, and Meg looked up at him, struggling to keep her voice even. "If you're quite done, I'll need a clean bandage, and some rum for the wound."

His expression hardened. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Margaret Davies." She turned her attention back to the task at hand, determined to remain calm. "I live on Nassau, and work in a bakery in the-more genteel part of town. I knew Billy-in England. Before all this. He was kind and gentle. A good man. He came to me this morning with a rather serious wound in his leg. From a knife, it appears."

"Is that so?" Flint's voice was soft-so soft that Meg might have mistaken it for courtesy, had her ears not picked up the subtle sarcasm.

He picked up a small chest from his desk, and set it down next to her. "This should have everything you need."

As she went to open it, he placed his booted foot on top of the lid. She recoiled, glancing up to see his dark blue eyes examining her.

"And what would you be wanting with our Billy? To redeem his soul? Save him from eternal damnation?"

She flinched at the rancor in his tone. The Captain bent down, his mouth close to her ear.

"Just so you know, he doesn't want saving, Miss Margaret I-knew-Billy-in-England. So keep your damn fantasies to yourself."

Once Flint left the room, Meg was so focused on tending to Billy that it came as a surprise when she looked up to see sunlight streaming into the cabin. She had managed to stop the bleeding, but he remained unconscious, intermittently shivering under the blankets.

Meg stood up, intending to stretch her legs for a moment. She felt off balance almost immediately, and staggered to the side. A memory triggered in the back of her brain, and a sick feeling hit the pit of her stomach.

_No. It can't be._

She seized hold of a table that was nailed to the ground, and made her way over to one of the portholes. When she looked outside, she saw nothing but a wide expanse of shining, azure sea.

"God, no," she gasped, suddenly feeling dizzy.

A cheerful voice spoke up from the doorway, increasing her sense of disorientation. "No worries. You'll get used to it after a time."

Meg slowly turned to see a tanned young man with dark, shoulder-length hair. He gave her an affable smile. "John Silver. I'm the cook, and a very good one, I must say."

"Margaret Davies," she murmured, and took in a deep breath. "Am I to understand that we set sail some time ago?"

"It would appear so." His brilliant blue eyes flicked to Billy, then settled on her with obvious curiosity. "You are acquainted with Mr. Bones?"

"I am acquainted with Billy Manderley," she replied evenly, settling next to her patient once again.

"Manderley?" He raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like the name of a country estate. Hardly a name for a pirate."

Meg stared down at Billy. In her mind, she could see him tossing his younger siblings in the air, catching them as they squealed with laughter. A lump formed in her throat, and she closed her eyes for an instant."Perhaps because he wasn't meant to be one."

Billy shifted, and mumbled incoherently. Meg traced the strong line of his jaw with her gentle fingers, and he stilled under her touch.

"Were any of us?" Silver murmured.

She glanced up, surprised by the pensive look on his face.

The man seemed to sense that her attention had turned to him, and gave her a bright smile once again. "Right. I have been charged with escort you and your patient to the the quarters the Captain has assigned to you-at least until Billy recovers. Then he'll be back with the crew."

"Quarters?" Meg echoed. She laughed, and gave him an incredulous look. "I'm not staying. How can I? I have responsibilities-work-a life back in Nassau. I will care for Billy, of course, until he's out of danger, but surely the Captain has just move the ship out of the harbor? A little farther down the coast, perhaps, given the events of last night?"

"I don't quite know how to tell you this," murmured Silver, shifting uncomfortably. "But the fact is, the _Walrus_ on the hunt. We won't be returning to Nassau anytime soon."

xxx

Meg paced the length of the small cabin, becoming more agitated by the minute. A groan came from the bed, and her gaze fell on Billy. The sun filtered through the small porthole, illuminating his pallid skin. His breathing was shallow, and a bit too rapid for her liking. His head tossed restlessly on the pillow, and he began to mumble to himself. With a pang of guilt, she sat down on the stool by the bed, taking his hand in hers.

_I need to focus on him, and stop feeling sorry for myself._

"You're going to be just fine," she murmured, smoothing his closely cropped hair with her hand. "I'm staying right here until you are well enough to tire of my constant prattling. I can't help it, though. I talk when I'm nervous-always have. About everything and everyone. Perhaps I should tell you some of what happened after you left. The good things, I mean. Because not all of it was good...in fact, some of it was very bad. That's how I ended up in Nassau. But that can wait for another time. I'll start by telling you about John. You'll never guess what your little brother is up to now."

As she talked, his breathing became more regular, and he seemed to relax. Meg warmed to the task, telling him about his sister's marriage, and the twin boys she had given birth to a year later. One had been named William, but all anyone ever called him was Billy. The little boy, along with George, his twin, had become the terror-and delight- of the household from the moment he had begun to toddle more than a few steps.

"You'd love them," she said softly. "You were always so good with children. So patient-and you always knew how to make them smile." Looking at the tall, lean man stretched out on the bed in front of her, his muscles hardened from hours of toil, she wondered what he had become in the years since he had left England.

_Cut his throat myself._

The words flashed into her mind, and she fought back the tears. _This is not him. This is what he has had to do in order to survive. This is what Flint has made him._

A knock came at the door, and Silver entered with a tray of food.

"I thought you might like something to eat." He eyed Billy. "How's your patient?"

"The same."

He set the tray on the floor, then squatted down next to her. "He's strong, you know. He'll be fine."

"I want to talk to Flint," she said, the strength of her voice surprising her.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea right now."

"I don't care."

His expression darkened. "You should. Anyone who has sense-and some who don't-knows enough to stay away from him when he's in one of his moods."

"So I'm just supposed to accept the fact that I've been taken on a voyage against my will? The sole purpose of which is to terrorize and plunder merchant ships? To steal from people who are just trying to make an honest living?"

Silver met her gaze, and held it. "Don't for a second think that they wouldn't do the same to us, given half the chance. At least our crew is here by choice, and no issue, except in the heat of battle, is decided without being put to a vote."

"So you trust your Captain?" she flared.

Silver's eyes narrowed, and he stood up. "I am loyal to him because I swore an oath to do so."

Going to the door, he paused, then spoke in a lower tone. "But do I trust him? That, Miss Davies, is an entirely different question."

As the door closed, Billy coughed."Water," he rasped, his voice barely audible. "So thirsty."

Tears sprang to Meg's eyes, and she smiled. "As it just so happens, I have a cup waiting for you right here." She sat on the edge of the bed, and slipped a hand behind his neck. "Here, let me help you."

She had expected him to resist, but he allowed her to lift him up slightly. She pressed the cup to his lips, and he drank just a bit, then turned his head away. Meg eased him back on the pillow, and he began to push away the blankets that covered him.

"So hot." His eyes were still closed, but his voice became pleading. "And the pain-it burns. Make him stop. Make him see it's just not right. I won't do it!"

"Billy, I think your mind is playing tricks on you." She placed a hand on his chest, trying to calm him. "You've been injured, and-"

"I won't do it," he repeated, his voice roughening as he pushed her away. "I won't fucking do it! He can't make me!" He winced, his hand hovering over the bandage on his leg before it fell to the mattress. "Never again," he whispered.

Meg swallowed, and watched him lapse back into a deep sleep. After several minutes, she began to pace the room again. The small cabin seemed to be closing in on her, and she suddenly felt as if she had to get outside, or she wouldn't be able to breathe. Just for a moment...just long enough to recover her composure. Stepping outside, she closed the door with a soft click, and leaned her forehead against it.

"Miss Davies. A moment, please."

She turned to see Flint striding towards her, and instantly averted her gaze. "Captain. If you'll excuse me, I was just about to check on Billy." As her hand reached for the latch, Flint seized it, twisting her arm behind her back.

"You just came out of the cabin," he observed, his voice low and menacing. "Surely his condition has not changed that quickly. Unless, of course, you are not much of a nursemaid...or you are not who you say you are."

 


	6. Reason's at Distance

**VI.**

"I have no reason to lie to you," Meg said quietly. "But Billy's condition has worsened since this morning. If you wish to interrogate me, please be so kind as to do so inside the cabin, so I can be by his side."

Flint was silent for a moment, then released her. Nodding towards the door, he muttered, "After you."

xxx

Ten minutes later, Meg's mind was spinning from Flint's relentless questioning. The man had obviously mastered the skill of extracting information from captives. _Most likely due to wearing them down_ , she thought ruefully.

_How do you know Billy? Did you grow up with him?_

_When did you first see him in Nassau? And for what purpose?_

_For what reason did you come to the Bahamas? Who do you live with?_

She told him the truth, but kept her answers simple and to the point, sensing that he was looking for any inconsistency in her story.

Finally, she had had enough. Giving him an apologetic smile, she said, "Captain, you are an important man, and I hate to waste your time. At this point, I don't believe it is possible for me to tell you any more than I already have. With your leave, I would like to change the dressing on Billy's wound before too much time goes by."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "We will be done when I say we are done. There is one issue we have not yet discussed. Our accountant, Mr. Dufresne, is quite certain that he has seen you before."

"Perhaps he has,: she replied, struggling to keep her voice pleasant. "I have been resident in Nassau for several months now. I have likely been seen by dozens of people who have patronized the bake shop."

Flint stood against the wall, arms crossed against his chest. "Miss Davies, you strike me as an intelligent woman, so I will cut to the chase. You have lived on New Providence long enough to realize that there are two sorts of people who come to the island. Pirates-and those who do business with them-are the majority. The second, smaller group, is comprised of those who on the surface are God-fearing, respectable folk, but underneath, have souls that are just as dark, if not darker, than ours."

"Your point, Captain?"

He stared at her, his blue eyes cold. "You were seen in the company of one of Nassau's ostensibly finer citizens-a man named Tobias Nelson."

"Mr. Nelson helped arrange for my family's passage to the Bahamas," answered Meg quietly, keeping her eyes fixed on Flint. "His father was one of the founders of our church in London, and was a close friend of the pastor-who was my own father."

Flint gave a short, bitter laugh. "It appears as though Mr. Nelson has strayed from the flock since he came to Nassau."

Meg's voice became defensive. "He has his faults, as we all do. But he has a good heart. If not for him, I would be dead."

"So, you are in his debt, are you?" The captain took a step towards her, then another. In the next instant, he had seized her chin with his hand, tilting her head back in order to force her to focus on him. As his fingers tightened their grip, the callouses on his palm scraped against her skin, causing her to flinch. He sneered at her, muttering, "You believe him to be a man who deserves your loyalty?"

"I have no reason to think otherwise," she gasped. "I have been taught to judge a man by what I see with my own eyes, and hear with my own ears."

Flint's jaw tightened. "You would do well to remember the words of Marcus Aurelius, Miss Davies. Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth." He let go of her suddenly, and she took a step back.

"And what is your truth, Captain?" Meg snapped. "That you conscript honorable men like Billy, and force them to do your dirty work?"

His eyes blazed. "Hard as it may be for you to believe, every man on this ship, of his own free will, has taken an oath of loyalty to me. So do not stand there and waste your time preaching a sermon. God abandoned me-and I him- a long time ago."

Striding to the door, he jerked it open. "There will be a guard outside your door at all times. For your own protection, of course."

As the door slammed shut behind him, Meg felt terror descend upon her for the first time. To have found herself on a pirate ship commanded by a man with a fearsome reputation was bad enough. However, Flint considered Tobias Nelson to be an enemy, and apparently considered her to be guilty by association.

_Tobias_. She sank down on the stool next to the bed, and closed her eyes. In an instant, she was back in London, huddled with her family on the stairs of their small house.

_A mob had assembled around their small Moravian Church, chanting "Down with the House of Hanover! No Presbyterians!"_

_"Father, what do they want with us?" whispered Meg, flinching as she heard the shouts growing louder. "We're not political-and we're not Presbyterian."_

_Her father had shook his head. "It doesn't matter, Meg. We are not members of the established church. To those people, all who have not sworn allegiance to the Church of England are enemies of the status quo."_

_The sound of glass shattering was next, followed by a roar from the mob. "Burn it! Burn it!"_

_"I must talk to them." murmured Henry Davies, standing up and shrugging on his coat. "This cannot escalate into violence."_

_"No, Henry!" Mary Davies' tear-streaked face lifted to her husband's. "It's too dangerous! I won't have you risk your life!"_

_"Mary." He smiled at her, then took her hands in his, kissing them lightly. "We must have faith. As a man of the cloth, I am called at all times be ready cheerfully to witness to our faith-and if need be, to suffer reproach for Christ's sake."_

_Meg's brother Thomas stood up. "I'm going with you, father. I won't have you be alone." Turning to his mother, he gave her an affectionate hug. "We'll treat them in a kind and friendly manner, and invite them to pray with us. How can malice be sustained in the face of the peace of Christ? In an hour, this will all just be a bad memory."_

Minutes later, Meg had found herself running for her life. Tightly holding her mother's hand, she had fled down one of the fetid alleys that flanked Pudding Lane. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw glimpses of flickering torches following them, and tried to pick up the pace, her lungs burning.

Just as she began to despair, Tobias had appeared. His calm, confident presence had served to calm even Meg's mother, who had been nearly hysterical. From that moment on, they had been safe.

_How could such a man have a soul as dark as Captain Flint's? It is impossible._

"Have to see to the rigging."

Meg was jolted back to the present by Billy's rasping voice.

He struggled to sit up in bed, his eyes glassy with fever.

"Billy, you need to rest," she said soothingly. "Just lay back, and try to relax."

"Can't." He shook his head, his voice becoming urgent. "There's a nasty storm coming. Captain Jennings'll have my head if anything goes awry. Just give me a moment to steady myself."

"Billy, all your Captain wants is for you to recover your health. You've been relieved of your duties for now." She placed a gentle hand on his arm, and coaxed him back onto the pillow.

He stared at her, then glanced around the room, speaking in a low tone. "You don't know him! Don't believe him for a second. It's a fucking trick. That's how he operates. He'll have me flogged within an inch of my life if I'm not on deck!" He swallowed, then met her eyes once again. "He killed the last boy he impressed, John Thompson. Keelhauled him. Do you know what that means?"

Meg leaned over him, putting a cool cloth on his forehead. "It doesn't matter. He can't hurt you now. I promise."

Billy grasped her arm, his eyes burning into hers. "It means that they tied that fourteen year old boy to a rope that was looped beneath the ship, then threw him overboard and dragged him from one side of the ship to the other until he drowned. And do you know what Thompson's "crime" was? Did they tell you?"

"No," Meg murmured, taking his hand as she sensed his agitation. "But you mustn't upset yourself, Billy."

"He was fourteen years old." Billy said bitterly. "And weighed no more seven stone, soakin' wet. His crime was sobbing for his mother after he'd been beaten by the carpenter's crew...a sort of sadistic initiation into the life of the Royal Navy."

"You're no longer in the Royal Navy, Billy. You're the boatswain of the _Walrus_." She hesitated, then added softly, "And I'm with you. Do you know who I am?"

His eyes swung back to her. She smiled at him, praying for a spark of recognition to appear in his deep blue eyes. All of a sudden, his expression relaxed into a smile. "Meg."

"Full marks for your memory," she said lightly. "I'm well aware I don't have the most memorable face."

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, Margaret Rose."

She flushed. "You remember my middle name."

"I'd hardly forget. Do you remember the climbing roses that grew in the tiny walled garden behind your father's church?"

"Aye," she murmured, her eyes growing misty at the memory. "They were the palest pink...they always seemed so fragile, but they were beautiful."

"Just like you." His warm fingers brushed across her cheek for an instant, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You're a lady, Margaret," he said hoarsely, his eyes half closed. "There's no place for you in my world."

"Billy Manderley, you are still the person you were...no matter what you've done."

"When you make it back to England…" He paused to catch his breath, his eyes now closed. "Tell my mother I'm healthy-and happy. Tell her that I made something of myself...that I'm a carpenter, or a tradesman. But for God's sake, don't ever let her know that I was a pirate. You know what the Bible says, Meg-probably better than I do. It's been a good while since Sunday school... but I think it's Mark...or maybe Matthew… 'Then said Jesus unto him, put up again thy sword…" His voice trailed off as he lapsed into unconsciousness.

"..into his place," whispered Meg. "For they that take the sword shall perish with the sword. Matthew 26:52."

Tears filled her eyes as she gazed at the handsome, rugged man in front of her. He was in the prime of his life.

"You may be a pirate, but I know you, Billy Manderley-and I would trust you with my life. I'm not giving up on you yet."

Sliding into the bed next to him, she laid her head on his chest.

_How will I ever tell him the truth?_


	7. Sense and Reason Split

**VII.**

Flint stalked back into his cabin, slamming the door behind him. Reaching for a bottle of whisky, he poured himself a stiff drink, then sat down at his desk. Hearing a knock on the door, he barked, "What now?"

The door cracked open, and John Silver peered into the room. "I was told you wished to speak with me?"

The Captain waved a hand at him irritably, and Silver shut the door behind him, making a cautious approach. When he finally stood in front of the desk, Flint downed his whisky in one gulp, then spoke, his voice controlled.

"We have a problem."

"We?" Silver echoed, his voice tentative.

"As in the _Walrus_. This crew," growled Flint. "Billy's Miss Davies. DeGroot has identified her as an associate of a man who has vowed to do everything he can to restore British rule on New Providence. A man who calls himself the voice of reason, of enlightenment-who says that pirates have corrupted the soul of Nassau. This man, Tobias Nelson, is a craven, lying bastard, who has made his fortune in just a few years by running a network of shipwreckers-men who lure ships to wreck on reefs by signalling them with false lights. He wants the waters off Nassau free of pirates alright-but not because of any sense of morality. It's so more big, fat merchant ships can sail by Nassau, ripe for the picking. But there's one big difference between us and him-we have the balls to fight for a prize face-to-face."

Silver eyed Flint, who had poured himself another drink. "And Miss Davies. Her presence affects us how?"

Flint's eyes darkened, and he stared moodily into the amber liquid in his glass. "Why is she really here?" he muttered. "And now that she is, what the hell do we do with her?"

**xxxx**

Billy had fallen into a troubled, restless sleep. He woke up at one point, and heard conversation in the room, with voices rising and falling in dizzying succession. He thought he heard Flint's rough voice at one point, but could not be sure.

He felt as if all the vitality and strength that he normally possessed had been siphoned out of his body by some malevolent force. A suffocating heat descended upon him, and he tossed and turned, trying to escape it. Underneath it all was the dull, steady ache in his thigh that had the ability turn in an instant into a searing jolt of agonizing pain.

Just when the temperature in the room became tolerable, he began to shiver. His clothes were damp with sweat, and this served only to intensify the cold that seemed to have penetrated into the very marrow of his bones. Turning on his side, he pulled the thin blanket around him, his teeth chattering

Some moments later, a lithe, warm body slid into bed next to him.

"I'm here, Billy...and I'm not leaving your side until you are strong and well." The sweet, reassuring voice washed over him like a gentle summer breeze.

_A woman._

Billy swallowed, his mouth dry.

_How long had it been since he had had a woman in his bed? Six months? Nine?_

He knew that the men considered him odd due to his avoidance of the fuck tents that the brothels often set up on the beach for the pirate crews. There were several reasons he chose not to patronize the whores that were so readily available. In his mind, standing in line to wait his turn for a woman that had just serviced a dozen of his shipmates was less than appealing. He had also seen the ravages of venereal disease among the men he had sailed with, and had learned to be choosy about he women he chose to enjoy. Last, but not least, he still carried around the image of his father smiling fondly at his mother as she worked in the kitchen, singing in her pure, clear voice. " _I'm a lucky man, Billy. I hope one day you find a woman who will make you as happy as your mother has made me."_

When he had been new to pirate life, the men had been quick to guess that he was still a virgin. They had promptly declared that part of his initiation would be a visit to the largest brothel in Port Royal, Jamaica, which happened to be their next port of call. Once they hit shore, Billy, glad to have escaped the nightmare of life aboard a British Navy ship, had let his customary self-discipline slip.

_After several hours of heavy drinking, he had been carried on the shoulders of his new mates to meet Molly, one of the more famous women at the establishment. The two hours he had spent with her had opened his eyes to the sort of pleasures that were possible in the arms of a skilled and eager woman._

_As he had dressed, a naked Molly had reclined on the overstuffed pillows on the bed, her eyes following his every movement. As he reached for his pistol, she stood up, and approached him, her slim hips swaying gently as she walked._

_"It's not often I get to service such a fine, manly specimen as yourself, Billy Bones." Blond, wavy hair cascading over her breasts, she gave him a tender smile as she placed her small hands on his broad shoulders. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself. I've seen far too many men who are content to fuck any woman that offers him a cut-rate price. Sure, they save a few coins, but they're often dead of the pox a few years later-or so miserable they're wishin' they were dead. A bit of advice-stay away from the cheap whores, even when you feel your balls are about to burst from the wantin'. Stick with the higher priced women that you know are clean. And if you ever come back to Port Royal, be sure to look me up."_

Billy tried to open his eyes, but found that the weight of his eyelids made that near impossible.

"Are you clean?" he muttered, hoping desperately that the answer would be in the affirmative.

_"Of course." Her hand slid across his chest. "I wouldn't come to you any other way."_

_Her scent, light and fragrant, reminded him of an English spring morning._

_"God, you smell amazing," he rasped. "Tell me your name."_

_A musical laugh floated through the air. "Billy, don't you know me? It's Meg."_

_He struggled for a moment, and managed to open his eyes. A woman with long, dark hair that curled over her shoulders was lying next to him. Her slim fingers touched his cheek, which was rough with golden stubble. After tracing the line of his jaw, she tilted his head towards hers._

_"It's not possible," he said hoarsely. "You're still a girl, playing dolls with my sister in the kitchen."_

_"I grew up, Billy." She was silent for a moment, then looked into his eyes. "And I can't help but think that fate has brought us together for a reason. My parents had been so certain that a match with Tobias-"_

_"The hell with Tobias!" Billy felt strength flow into his limbs for the first time in what seemed like days. In an instant, he had gathered her against his body. Once her soft breasts pressed against him, he was undone._

_Stifling a groan, he rolled her underneath him. "I won't allow it," he muttered, running a hand through her silky hair._

_She raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a claim over me that I am as yet unaware of?"_

_The corner of his mouth curved up in a confident grin. "Oh, I have a claim over you, alright."_

_"Really? As of when?"_

_"As of now," he murmured, and touched his lips to hers._

Meg was awakened by Billy muttering incoherently. He had thrown the covers off, and was shivering. As he shifted position, his shirt fell open, and the muscles of his abdomen rippled against her arm. She drew back, her cheeks flushing as she stared at his hard, lean body.

A light tap came on the door, and Silver entered a moment later, only to halt when he caught sight of Meg in bed with Billy. Immediately self-conscious, she sat up in bed, hugging her arms against her chest.

"Erm...sorry for the interruption." His eyes travelled over her, then rested on Billy. "I assume he's feeling better then?" He kept a straight face, but Meg could hear the laughter in his voice.

"He is still quite ill," she said coldly, and reached for the blanket, draping it around Billy in as dignified a way as possible.

"So I see," he replied. After a moment, he cleared his throat. "Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?"

Meg hesitated, then asked, "Do you have any sort of a medical kit? I had a small satchel with me that had some salve and bandages, but I lost it when the skiff sank." She bit her lip, and toyed with the cloth in her lap. "I wish to God I had kept my wits about me and hung on to it."

Silver sat on top of a small chest, and gave her a thoughtful look. "I wouldn't be too hard on yourself. When bullets are whizzing around your head and in you are in danger of drowning, that can happen. Even to experienced seamen. And I suppose you had no way of knowing you'd end up taking an extended holiday on a pirate ship."

She gave a short, bitter laugh. "Hardly." Turning to her charge, she placed her hand on his. "But Billy is the one who is paying the price for my foolishness," she said softly.

"I'd like to help, but I've no medical training-and unfortunately, we're between doctors at the moment."

She lifted her head, and gave him a look of amazement. "You usually have one? On board ship? Who on earth would volunteer for-" When Silver raised an eyebrow, she stopped and said slowly. "They don't volunteer, do they?"

He shook his head, and her eyes darkened. "For all Flint's talk of men taking an oath of loyalty-'of their own free will' were his words, I believe-he is just as guilty of conscripting men as the Royal Navy is."

"Perhaps you are right," replied Silver. "But at least here, every man has a say. When I first joined the crew, Billy-" his eyes swung to the man on the bed-"made that abundantly clear to me. No one gets special treatment from the cooks-not the first mate, not Flint, not anyone. We are all equals."

Meg thought otherwise, but decided that now was hardly the time to argue the point. Unlike his captain, Silver was at least courteous.

"Did the last doctor leave any supplies?" she asked, hardly daring to hope the answer would in the affirmative.

"I'm not sure what's down there. I'll send someone to check." He stood up, and made his way to the door.

As he put his hand on the door, he stopped, and turned to face her. "I can only imagine how difficult this is for you. I want you to know that Billy is respected by everyone on this ship. Please do let me know if there is anything you need. I'll be back with some food later." Giving her a brief nod, he left before she could thank him.

Billy's eyelids fluttered as the door closed. "They're going to worry," he said hoarsely.

Meg felt a stab of unease, and tried to distract him. "You're awake," she said softly, placing her hand gently on his forehead. "And your temperature seems to have come down a bit. That's a good sign."

"I don't want them to worry," he persisted, his blue eyes troubled. "It's not right to put them through all that."

"Who, Billy?"

"Your-" he moved his leg a fraction, and winced. "Your mother and father. We should have left a note."

"Billy, we thought I'd be gone for just a few minutes," she said, trying to soothe him. "We had no way of knowing this would happen."

"How will I explain it to them? Because I want them to know-that I had no intention-that I never would have-" his voice trailed off, and he turned away from her.

"Billy, I understand-and I don't blame you."

"But what will they think?" he burst out, his eyes meeting hers. "Meg, by bringing you here, I've ruined your reputation. That is no small thing..even on New Providence. I have to explain what happened. Perhaps-perhaps I can offer you and your family my share from the last few prizes. It's not much, but more may be coming if we are lucky." He took her hand. "I don't mean to insult you-I know money doesn't make up for ruining your life," he murmured. "You deserve a happy marriage with a good man-and your parents-"

Meg swallowed. "Billy, my parents-they are not on New Providence."

He stared at her. "But you said you're not married-and they would never let you come alone."

She blinked back the tears had appeared in her eyes at the mention of her parents.

"Two nights before I sailed for the Bahamas, Father-and Thomas-were killed by a mob that had assembled outside the church."

"A mob? But-why? Your father was one of the kindest men I've ever known."

"But he was a Dissenter-someone who had rejected the established Church. An easy target for reactionaries, be they disgruntled Tories, Jacobites, or anyone who is bitter that the House of Stuart no longer rules England."

"I'm so sorry," murmured Billy, squeezing her hand in sympathy. "If only I'd been there-"

She shook her head. "There was nothing you could have done. I can't even describe-" Her voice broke. "They were like a pack of rabid dogs, Billy. Mother and I had to run for our lives. If we hadn't run into Tobias when we did…"

He said nothing at the mention of Tobias, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of her hand. "And what of your mother?"

"Died a week later on the ship-a fever took her in less than a day. I think she just gave up, Billy. Father was her life."

"And your guardian now?"

She chose her words cautiously. "I live with Mr. David Semple, and his wife Agatha. They own the bakery where I work."

"And these people are legally responsible for you?"

She hesitated, and Billy's jaw tensed."Meg, what are you not telling me?"

"My guardian-my guardian is Tobias Nelson."

 


	8. Whatever Warms the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up a bit as Meg ministers to Billy, and Joji makes an appearance.

**VIII.**

Billy swore under his breath, and struggled to sit up.

Meg shifted closer to him, and tried coaxing him to lie down."Billy, please-we can speak of this when you are feeling better. You need to rest."

He shook his head, managing to prop himself up against the rude headboard of the bed. "No. Not until I speak my mind." He reached for her, settling his warm hand on the soft skin at the base of her neck. "Margaret Rose, you are a kind, beautiful, brave woman...and you deserve a guardian who will give everything he has to defend and protect you." As his fingers traced the delicate curve of her collarbone, his voice hardened. "Nassau is a dangerous place, Meg. Where was Tobias Nelson when you were struggling to secure your shop in a nasty storm, and were hit in the head by a shutter? And where was he when a pirate came into your life and carried you off to his ship?"

Meg gave him a wry smile. "You hardly carried me off, Billy."

He growled in frustration, and pulled her closer, so close that she could feel her breasts yielding to the hard planes of his muscular chest. "That's not the point! The point is that you are the sort of woman that men can't get out of their mind..." He swallowed, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek. "The kind of woman that inhabits their dreams when they-"

Meg felt his forehead touch hers, and she closed her eyes, focusing on the sensations that were causing every nerve in her body to come alive. Billy's strong, solid form was triggering reactions in her body that were completely foreign to her. As she took in a breath, her lips a fraction from his skin, she could smell the fresh, clean scent of the ocean, mingled with hints of gunpowder and musk. In response, a curious warmth spread out from her lower belly, causing her to breathing to quicken.

"What I'm trying to say," he said, his voice hoarse, "Is that if I were to be charged with protecting you, things could…" His cheek brushed against hers for an instant, and she found the rough scrape of his stubble more sensual than she could have possibly imagined.

"Could what?" she whispered. Meg turned her head a fraction of an inch, desperate to once again feel the friction of his day's growth of beard again her own skin. Although it seemed as though time was standing still, she could dimly sense the steady beat of his heart penetrating through the thin bodice of her dress.

"Get complicated…" he muttered. His lips grazed the side of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. "Very complicated."

"Do they have to be?" Her voice was barely audible to her own ears.

Billy's mouth moved to her ear, his breath stirring the tendrils of hair that had escaped from the tidy coil at the nape of her neck. "I'd like to say no, but we both know I'd be lying." One hand slipped around the back of her neck, teasing her hair out of the confines of the knot. His fingers combed through the thick, glossy tresses that cascaded down her back.

"Billy-"

"I'm not the boy you knew, Meg." He buried his face in her hair, and rasped, "I've fought battles more vicious than most soldiers ever see. Violence, murder, chaos-it's part of my life now. I slit a man's throat yesterday, without a second thought. To be fair, he was the scum of the earth, and deserved what he had coming. But two years ago, I would have lain awake at night for a week, the taking of a life weighing down on my conscience. Now?" He shook his head. "It's nothing to me."

Tears stung Meg's eyes. "I don't believe it!" she said fiercely. "I won't accept that the essence of a good man-the core of his humanity-can be altered by actions that he has been forced into, by circumstances beyond your control. If had you had only had the chance to remain with the Royal Navy-with good, honest men as mentors, you would have risen-"

"If I had stayed on board that ship, I'd have been long since dead!" The vehemence in his voice took her aback, and she placed her hands on his chest, creating a space between them. Billy saw the uncertainty in her face, and his eyes softened. He took her face in her hands, his touch tender.

"Meg, it's hard for me to explain what it was like, and it will be difficult for you to understand-even though you are one of the most compassionate people I've ever met." He sighed. "Think of how you grew up, in a loving, nurturing environment. What was it that your father used to always say? I think it was the Moravian motto?"

She looked up at him, touched at his recollection. _No matter, what he may think, the man I knew is not lost to me._

"In essentials, unity. In non-essentials, liberty. In all things, love."

He nodded, his face growing wistful. "I always liked that. And your family and mine-that was how we lived. But from the moment I was taken by that press gang, I lived in a world where liberty and love were foreign concepts. I'll spare you the details, but I wouldn't wish for my worst enemy to have to endure what I did at the hands of Captain Jennings and his officers. So while life with Flint is not Utopia, it's a far sight better than what I experienced in His Majesty's service."

"Which just serves to support my theory," she said, giving him a sweet smile. "You are still a good man, Billy Manderley."

"When you look at me that way," he murmured, lowering his mouth to hers, "I can almost believe it."

"Almost?" she inquired, drawing back a bit and arching an eyebrow at him. "What more do you need to be convinced?"

_My God-I'm flirting with him._

His eyes met hers. "I'm sure I could think of something appropriate, given enough time. But for now, this will have to do."

As his lips brushed against hers, the door flew open, and Meg jumped back. A tall, muscular Asian man filled the doorway, a heavy chest in his hands. He coolly surveyed the scene, then gave Billy a bemused look. Setting the chest down, he unlatched it.

"The physician's things." He took up a position leaning against the wall, his arms crossed against his chest.

Meg glanced at him, then at Billy.

"That's Joji," Billy said, saluting at his shipmate. "He's a man of many talents-and few words."

Meg stood up. "Pleased to meet you, Joji. I'm Meg-an old friend of Billy's."

Joji inclined his head a fraction, his face remaining impassive.

Meg looked back to Billy, her expression confused.

The boatswain chuckled. "He said three words just now. That's his quota for the month. Nothing personal, eh Joji?"

The man's mouth curved up ever so slightly for an instant, and he nodded.

Meg smiled. "Well, thank you for bringing up this trunk. It looks quite heavy." Her face lit up as she lifted the lid, and gasped. "We're in luck! Thank heavens your former physician had the forethought to collect such a wide range of herbs."

Billy frowned, peering into the wooden box. "All I see is a bunch of musty dried plants."

For the first time since she had set foot on the _Walrus_ , Meg laughed- a musical, joyous laugh that made Billy smile.

"Are you making fun of me?" he demanded, placing his hands on her waist and giving her a mock threatening glance.

"And what if I am? Are you going to punish me?"

Joji coughed, valiantly trying to maintain his composure, then burst into laughter as he headed for the door. "You're done for, Billy."

As he exited the cabin, Joji received a pointed glare from Billy. "That's seven words from you in the past three minutes. No need to set a record!"

Now Meg began to chuckle, and Billy's gaze swung back to her. "What's so funny?" he demanded.

"Nothing," she replied demurely. "Now sit down like a good boy, and let me tend to that wound."

He drew himself up to his full height, and took a step closer. "I should warn you that I have a very long memory."

Meg put her hands on her hips. "Good. You can thank me when your leg has healed well enough that no one will ever be able to tell that you were almost gutted open like a fish."

He grumbled under his breath, then sat down on the bed.

"Thank you. Now if you could lie down, that would be most helpful."

Billy shot a quick look at the door, and Meg slipped a finger under his chin, forcing his eyes up to meet hers. "I saw that."

He met her gaze levelly. "Before you touch me, I want to know exactly what you plan to do. In detail. I'm not someone who gives up control over his body lightly."

"I'm going to clean the wound with alcohol, then apply a poultice to help it heal."

Billy raised an eyebrow. "And you expect me to just drop my trousers?"

"Of course not. I'll help you." She kept a straight face for a few seconds, then burst into laughter.

In response, Billy stood up, towering over her her. Her laughter died away as he took her hand, guiding it to his belt. "Show me," he said hoarsely.


	9. That More Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg cares for Billy, and Tobias Nelson makes an appearance.

**IX.**

Meg, her heart pounding in her chest, suddenly felt as if all the blood in her body had rushed to her head. Her small hand rested at Billy's waist, held securely between his warm, calloused palm and the worn leather of his belt. As she tentatively slipped her fingers inside the buckle, he took in a deep, shuddering breath.

"This may not be such a good idea."

She gazed up at him, her grey eyes full of concern. "Are you quite alright?"

Closing his eyes, he gave her a brief nod.

"Here, I have a better idea." She dropped to her knees in front of him, finally teasing the leather strap out from the confines of its buckle. As his belt clattered to the floor, Billy glanced down at her, and made a strangled noise deep in his throat. He swayed for an instant, and she grasped hold of him by the waist.

"Billy, you must lie down. I insist."

After a moment, he spoke, his voice hoarse.

"Good idea." Averting his eyes, he lowered himself onto the bed.

Meg helped ease him back against the pillow, then said briskly, "Now, we just need to get your trousers off."

"No!" he blurted out, breaking into a sweat. "I just need a moment."

She gave him a reproachful look. "It serves no purpose for you to stall. The longer we wait to treat your injury, the more likely it is that infection will set in."

"I'm not stalling," muttered Billy, gritting his teeth.

Meg tried again. "Are you in pain?"

"Well, it's not exactly comfortable."

She looked at Billy, her expression earnest. "Is there anything I can do? Please, I want to help."

He gave a weak laugh. "Believe me, if I were any other man on this ship-well, except maybe for the one who has a thing for the dairy goat-you'd have already been pressed into service."

"Pressed into service?" she echoed, a puzzled expression on her face. When his meaning finally dawned on her, she flushed a deep scarlet, and took a renewed interest in sorting through the medical kit.

"You must think me rather dense," she said faintly.

"No. I just think that you have been inserted into a world that is completely foreign to you-a world far removed from the little manse in Kensington where you grew up. The men on this ship are from all walks of life and several different continents. They have seen and done it all."

He stopped and took in a breath, then spoke, choosing his words with care.

"You are a lovely young woman, Meg-intelligent, level-headed...but you have little experience of life outside the bounds of conventional society. While you are on this ship, as long as you are by my side, you are safe. But if for some reason we are separated-and I'll do everything I can to prevent that-you will have to keep you wits about you." He ran a hand over his eyes, which were heavy with fatigue. "On the positive side, the crew will assume I'm f-" he caught himself "-that we have been-erm, intimate."

She stared at him. "What?! Can't you tell them that's not the case?"

He shrugged. "I could, but they wouldn't believe me, so why try? Besides, it's to my advantage to have them think so. They'll think twice before they as much as look at you sideways."

She picked up a flask and opened it, wrinkling her nose as she smelled the potent fumes of cheap rum. Recalling the earlier scene with Flint, she hesitated, then asked, "What about Captain Flint? Surely he won't be intimidated."

He shook his head. "I'm not worried about Flint. It's not his style. When we're at sea, his sole focus is the hunt. Nothing else even registers in his brain. Besides, he has a woman on shore whom he seems quite loyal to-a widow named Miranda Barlow." Taking a deep breath, he murmured, "Look, if you turn around, I think I can manage to get my trousers off by myself."

"Very well." She stood up and tactfully faced away, listening to the bed creak as Billy muttered a string of unintelligible words which she could only surmise were curses. A few moments later, he muttered, "Done."

Turning, Meg saw him propped up on a pillow, his tanned face unnaturally pale. A worn brown blanket covered his waist, groin, and left thigh. Her eyes went directly to his right thigh. The wound was oozing some blood, but thankfully, there was no visible pus.

Suddenly aware she'd been holding her breath, Meg relaxed. She sat down on the edge of the bed, her fingers delicately probing the area around the gash.

"It's not as bad as I expected."

As she finished exploring near the edge of the wound and reached for the flask of rum, Billy tensed. Noticing, she said quietly, "I'm sorry. I'll try be as gentle as possible."

"Wait..before you do it, let me have a swig. It'll help with the pain."

She handed the flask to him, and watched as he took two large gulps.

Passing it back to her, he closed his eyes, curling his right hand into a fist. "I'm ready. Do what you have to do."

**xxxx**

As the sun rose over the lush plantation a few miles from Nassau, Tobias Nelson rose from the bed. Going to the window, he threw back the shutters, allowing the cool sea breeze to fill the room. The woman still lying in the tangled sheets shifted, her brown skin glowing in the morning sunlight. She blinked, then smiled appreciatively at the sight of his lean, muscular body.

"You spoil me with the view, Tobias. I must admit that it is quite pleasant to wake up to the sight of your rear silhouetted against that deep blue sky."

He turned, a smirk spreading across his chiseled features. "And here I thought you were attracted to my business acumen."

She sat up, her curly dark hair tumbling over her full breasts. "Make no mistake, I am first and foremost a businesswoman. But that does not mean that I cannot enjoy the other benefits that often accompany the best kind of partnerships."

He slid back into bed, rolling on top of her. "And here I had you pegged as a woman who prefers to enjoy feminine delights in the bedroom."

When she raised a dark, perfectly groomed eyebrow in response, he chuckled, taking one of her nipples in between his thumb and forefinger. Teasing the nub of flesh into a firm peak, he watched her face intently as two fingers of his other hand slid up along her inner thigh, exploring the soft heat of her core . She gave a small gasp, arching her back.

He bent to her neck, nipping at the soft flesh. "Yes, I've seen you exchanging heated glances with that she-devil sidekick of Rackham's."

Her small hand, always surprisingly strong, slipped to his groin to encircle him. He groaned as she began to pleasure him, expertly adjusting the pressure and speed of her movements.

Eyes slanted up at him, she gave him the seductive, earthy smile that she knew he found almost irresistible. "What can I say? I have gotten where I have in life by making pleasure my business, and vice versa. I am many things to many people, Mr. Nelson...and my support could make or break your plans for Nassau."

He drew back to give her a narrow glance. "I don't give a damn who you fuck, Max. You can spread your legs for the whole Caribbean if you want. The fact is, you need me..and deep down, you know that I satisfy you in a way that ginger bitch never can. So do _not_ play games with me."

"I do not waste my time with games," she murmured, running her fingers through his thick blond hair. "I believe that actions speak for themselves. So if you think you can show me an ecstasy I have never known, I invite you to do so."

Hazel eyes fixed on her, Tobias moved her hand aside. An instant later, he pushed into her body, finding his release within a half dozen thrusts.

Rolling off her with a grunt, he closed his eyes, slowing his ragged breathing. Max threw him a look of disgust.

_And he thinks he knows how to please a woman._

Sitting up, she swung her feet over the side of the bed. Dressing with the speed she had learned as a young prostitute, Max turned to face him, her dark eyes regarding him calmly. "I advise you to proceed with care, Mr. Nelson. I am infinitely more useful to you as an ally than as an enemy. I may have begun my life in Nassau as a whore, but I now hold more power than you can possibly imagine. Do not think for a second that you are my master, for I am a slave to no one."

With that, she left, her footsteps echoing on the marble floor.

**xxx**

As Meg prepared to cleanse the wound with the rum, she could see the tension in Billy's body.

_This is not the first time this has happened._ _He knows how painful it will be._

When the alcohol made contact with the gash, Billy stifled a groan. However, other than stiffening his back slightly, he remained still.

After she had swabbed the area with a clean cloth, she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "That's the worst of it. Now I'm going to prepare a poultice of herbs. Once that's on your leg, we're done."

As she ground the herbs with a worn mortar and pestle, Billy appeared to be lost in thought. Finally, he turned his head to face her. "So I can be back on deck by tomorrow?"

She gave him a sideways glance."You certainly have the ability to do so, but I wouldn't advise it. You must allow that leg time to heal properly."

"I can't just lie here in bed," he muttered, his hands plucking at the blanket. "My presence is needed. The man who serves as my boatswain's mate is still new to the job..he hasn't earned the respect of the men yet."

"Well, this will give him the chance to step up and prove his mettle," she said briskly. "Surely it was the same for you when you first assumed your post."

"Not really," said Billy, his voice flat. "I earned the post by killing my predecessor."

A chill went down her spine. Her hands froze for an instant, and she had to force herself to resume the rhythmic scraping of the pestle against the mortar. "I suppose no one dared question your authority then."

"We had a new lad who'd joined the deck crew...just turned 16. He'd been part of the crew of a merchant ship we took as a prize. Despite his youth, he fought bravely against us. When flint offered the merchant crew a chance to join us, he was pleased when Jeremy's hand shot up. Not so pleased was Tanner, the boatswain. He was a vindictive man, and Jeremy had hurt his pride by wounding him with his dagger."

"He made life difficult for the boy?"

Billy snorted. "He made it hell. I went to Gates, our quartermaster. He said he'd keep an eye on things, but that it was just Tanner's way. He'd eventually find a new target and move on. After some time, it seemed like that was actually happening, but then I'd catch Tanner looking at Jeremy with the most malevolent gleam in his eye." A shadow passed across his face. "And when he spoke up to support Jeremy's request to join the vanguard, I knew he was up to something."

"The vanguard?"

"First men over the side when we board a ship. They take the brunt of the initial assault, and most of the casualties." He smiled wryly. "Not for the faint of heart."

"You're part of it?"

He nodded. "Me, Joji, and about 20 others-typically the biggest, strongest men. At 16, Jeremy was tall for his age. He hadn't a lot of meat on his bones at that point, but he was wiry and strong... and quick as lightning with a dagger. On his first go, I told him to stay close to me, and he did. But in the chaos, we were separated, and Tanner took advantage of the situation."

Meg made a rough poultice out of a square of clean bandage. "Did he-" she stopped, afraid to ask.

"Kill him? No, but he would have. I saw him circle behind Jeremy as the lad fought an older man. They were in the aft section of the ship, separated a bit from the rest of the battle. When I saw that bastard raise his dagger, I moved faster than I ever have in my life. An instant before he plunged his blade into the boy's back, I drove mine into his. He was dead before he hit the ground."

She placed the poultice on the wound, then carefully wrapped a bandage around his thigh. As her fingers brushed against his skin, she could almost sense the power leashed within the taut muscles that lay underneath.

Meg willed herself to concentrate on the task at hand, not daring to look up. "You did what you had to do to save an innocent life."

"In that case, yes." He stared at the ceiling, his eyes pensive. The muscles in his thigh contracted, the golden hair on his leg rippling with the motion.

"Would you like something for the pain?" Meg asked.

He shook his head. "I don't want to be drugged. I've been there, and the dreams aren't pleasant. Just a little more rum, please."

A shout went up from outside, and the sound of running feet was heard outside the cabin. A distant boom sounded, and the ship all of a sudden banked sharply to the right.

"Billy, what's happening?" As another boom sounded, closer this time, her throat tightened.

His face was grim. "We've engaged someone." He was reaching for his trousers when the door flew open after a frenzied knock.

A tall, thin youth, his ginger hair closely cropped like Billy's, stood in the doorway, gasping for breath.. "Beggin' your pardon, Billy-but the Cap'n needs you on deck-now. It's the HMS Portsmouth."

"Shit." Billy swung his legs to the side of the bed. Meg quickly averted her eyes as Jeremy went to the boatswain's side, helping him get his trousers and boots on in a matter of moments.

She fought the urge to try to persuade him to stay, knowing it would be useless. He was already moving towards the door, waving off Jeremy's offer of assistance.

"Meg, bolt the door," he said brusquely. "And do not, under any circumstances, come out until I bid you to do so."

She tried to ignore the panic threatening to choke her, struggling to keep her voice even as she spoke."And if the ship is hit? Or you are injured again?"

His eyes met hers, a fierce determination in them that she had never seen before. "I'll come back for you. No matter what."


	10. The Spring in Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A British naval ship engages the Walrus in battle, and an injured Billy is summoned to fight.

**X.**

As Billy emerged onto the main deck, the controlled chaos of battle preparation spilled across the planks. Flint stood on the quarterdeck, spyglass to his eye. As he lowered it, a scowl stole across his features. He glanced up at the sky, expression darkening as thunder boomed in the distance. Angry black clouds were rapidly rolling in, and heavy drops of rain began to patter on the deck.

"Battle stations!" he bellowed. "Cannons at the ready!" Turning to DeGroot, he nodded, then gave the order for the ship to turn in preparation for a broadside.

Billy, ignoring the throbbing pain in his leg, braced himself against one of the masts, and proceed to issue orders in a rapid-fire sequence. The men raced up and down the rigging, deploying the sails in a matter of moments. As the large sheets of canvas unfurled, the _Walrus_ began to execute a perfect swing to the right. However, before the vessel could get into proper position, another cannon fired from the _Portsmouth_ , cutting a lethal arc across the sky to slam into the stern.

The ship shook from the impact, throwing most of the men to the deck. Flint got to his feet within seconds, ignoring the blood streaming down his temple. "Get the hull team down below!" he shouted. "If we take on much water, we're done for!" Turning to the row of cannons, he barked, "On my command!"

The men stationed at the huge iron pieces tensed, smoldering matches at the ready. When Flint bellowed , "Fire!" the guns roared to life. They were answered moments later by belches of black smoke from the _Portsmouth_. This time, however, the cannonballs fell wide of their mark, sending up sprays of water when they hit the churning waves. As lightning streaked across the sky. Flint squinted up at the heavy clouds, then strode to the wheel, shouting at the helmsman over the din. The ship swung around in a hard turn until it was perpendicular to the naval vessel. The wind had shifted direction, and it filled the sails of the _Walrus,_ sending it speeding towards the _Portsmouth_.

"Bloody hell!" Jeremy stood next to Billy, staring open-mouthed as the distance between the two vessels rapidly closed. "He means to head straight for her!"

Billy swore under his breath. Since they had been taken by surprise, he knew Flint had little choice. At this point, it would be impossible for them to outrun the larger ship. An aggressive preemptive attack was their only hope.

As the ships neared each other, the cannons felt silent. The seamen of the _Portsmouth_ assumed defensive positions, many arming themselves with pikes to repel a boarding party. Others retreated to the roundhouse, the muzzles of their flintlocks peeping out of the slits that had been carved in the planking for just that purpose.

"On my command," Flint growled, his eyes locking with Billy and Joji, who each held a grenade. As he gripped the weapon, his fingers running over the fuse, Billy could hear Meg's words echoing in his head. _You did wha_ _t you had to do to save an innocent life_.

"NOW!"

Billy responded automatically, lighting the fuse and hurling it onto the Portsmouth. Seconds later, a blast came from the desk of the naval ship, sending razor sharp pieces of wood flying through the air.. As if on cue, a dozen grappling hooks were launched from the _Walrus_. Moments later, the vanguard was swarming the forecastle of the _Portsmouth_. As lightning flashed again, the rain began in earnest. Billy limped restlessly across the deck, following the battle intently. His hands balled into fists as watched the tide of the battle go back and forth several times. _If only I wasn't so damn useless._

The throbbing in his leg a moment was forgotten a moment later. The fighting on the _Portsmouth_ was now concentrated on the gundeck and forecastle. A British petty officer, taking advantage of the lack of focus on the aft part of the ship, led a group of his men in a brazen counterattack on the _Walrus_. It became clear to Billy that their aim was to storm the Captain's quarters. Taking a deep breath, he charged the group. He was still far from full strength, and a wave of dizziness came over him as he swung his sword, blurring his vision for an instant. The sounds around him seemed to swim together, the metallic clash of swords and the frenzied shouts of men merging into a dull roar.

An instant later, an eerie, ululating cry split the air. Joji leaped from the side of the ship onto the deck, arriving just in time to prevent one of the seamen from planting his sword in Billy's abdomen. The tall boatswain, sprawled on the deck, appeared dazed.

Joji gave him a hand, and pulled him to his feet. Billy shook his head, and his vision cleared, allowing him to regain his balance. Within seconds, they were fighting back to back against three seaman. Joji's slender, curved sword sliced through the air, the blade flashing as he parried an attack from the tall petty officer.

Billy, meanwhile, had his hands full. The two men engaging him were quick and strong. Although he did his best to camouflage his injury, they could not help but notice that he favored his stronger leg. One of the men smirked. "Hardly a fair battle for you, eh pirate scum? But no need to worry about that leg. It won't be troublin' you when you're lyin' at the bottom of the ocean."

A growl came from Billy in response, and he lunged forward. Even wounded, he was a skilled swordsman, with plenty of battle experience. Feinting to one side, he then swung his blade upwards, knocking his opponent's sword from his hand before slicing a deep gash in his arm. The sudden shift in his weight caused a lancing pain to shoot through his thigh, and he lost his balance, stumbling for just an instant. The other seaman pressed the advantage and barreled into Billy, knocking him flat on his back.

Billy instinctively tried to roll to the side, but his opponent was a heavy man, and easily pinned him to the deck. As the rain intensified, the seaman's hands tightened around Billy's throat. The boatswain delivered a vicious punch to the man's side, causing him to grunt in pain and release his hold. In that moment, Billy succeeded in wrapping his arms around his opponent and reversing their positions. Once he was on top, he pummeled the man with a series of punishing blows, until his opponent finally slumped into unconsciousness.

Scrambling to his feet, Billy saw another wave of British seamen reaching the deck of the _Walrus_. Although the pirates had initially had the advantage of taking the Portsmouth by surprise with their unconventional tactics, the fighters now appeared evenly matched. The sailors evidently were seasoned veterans. He involuntarily glanced back at the cabin, only to freeze when he saw Meg standing just outside the open door. The rain was falling in sheets now, and she was soaked to the skin.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" He covered the distance between them in a few quick strides, towering over her with a commanding look. "I told you to keep inside! This is no place for a woman!"

"Billy, that man could have killed you!" She was pale with shock, her wet hair plastered against her head.

"But he didn't," he said evenly, trying to keep his emotions under control.

"Only by the grace of God! You are in no condition to keep fighting!"

A strong hand suddenly seized Meg by the arm, dragging her away from Billy. She felt a solid chest press against her back, and her stomach dropped when she heard the Captain's smooth voice.

"I doubt God had anything to do with it," said Flint coldly. "But it is quite providential that you happen to be with us, Miss Davies. You might just prove to be the most useful weapon we have in our armamentarium." He threw a challenging look at Billy, a streak of lightning illuminating his angular features.

In an instant, Billy's pistol was pointed directly at his Captain's head. Jaw set grimly, the boatswain growled, "Whatever you've got in mind, the answer is no."

"I don't recall asking your permission." Flint replied, his voice mocking.

"If you don't release her this instant, I swear-"

Just at that moment, five heavily armed seamen came around the corner, led by an officer. In a flash, Flint had his knife at Meg's throat. "I advise you to back your men off, Lieutenant. We've a hostage with us-a very valuable one. Should she be hurt in any way, I can assure you that there will be hell to pay."

The naval officer gave him a wary glance. "How do I know she isn't just some whore along for the ride?"

"Does she look like a whore to you?" Flint inquired, tightening his grip on Meg and nodding at her sober dress.

Billy stood next to him, his pistol having swiveled to face the lieutenant. The muscles in his powerful arms were taut with adrenaline.

The officer scrutinized Meg closely, then called out, "Who are you, miss?"

Flint's whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "You're terrified. Be convincing."

"Mar-Margaret Davies," she stammered, raising her voice to be heard over the thunder. "My father was a-a minister in Kensington. He died some months ago, and I am under the guardianship of Mr. Tobias Nelson."

The expression on the officer's face tightened. "Have these men harmed you, Miss Davies?"

"No...at least, not yet. But they've-made threats." Her voice quavered as Flint pushed the tip of his dagger against her soft skin of her neck.

Flint locked eyes with the man facing him. "You and your men will get the fuck off my ship- _now._ Or the girl dies, and your career is over."

Billy cocked the pistol. "You heard the Captain."

The lieutenant stepped back, and waved his men off. He then directed his attention to Meg, and spoke to her earnestly. "My name is Lieutenant Simon Chalmers, Miss Davies. I promise you that I will not rest until I see you safe." Glancing up at Flint, he said in a low voice, "Give me your pledge that you will not molest her in any way."

"You have our word," replied Billy levelly. "Despite what you may think, the British Navy does not have a monopoly on honor."

An explosion was heard from the Portsmouth, and Chalmers glanced over his shoulder. He motioned for his men to retreat, then gave Flint a cold look. "I'd advise you to remember my name, Captain. We will meet again. And next time, I'll be ready for you."

He pulled out a small silver whistle, then blew on it. At the shrill sound that followed, the seamen abandoned the _Walrus_. The pirates still on the _Portsmouth_ retreated back to their own vessel, bringing the grappling hooks with them. In a matter of moments, the two ships separated, the _Walrus_ scudding across the water, her black flag flapping in the wind.

Flint released Meg, and pushed her towards Billy. "Take her back to the cabin," he barked. "I don't want to see either of you until morning. That's an order." Turning, he strode off.

Billy gave him a hard stare, then steered Meg into the cabin, shutting and bolting the door behind them. He grasped her by the shoulders and swung her around to face him, his blue eyes darkening. "Do you realize you just took years off my life?"

She lifted her chin. "I'm not going to apologize for what I did."

"For-" he curbed his tongue with effort, struggling to control his anger. "For- God's sake, Meg! This is not a game! I told you to stay put, and you deliberately disobeyed me!"

Meg shook her head, her voice trembling. "Is that what you want to focus on? Me disobeying your orders? Who do you think got Joji's attention? I saved your life, Billy! So I could have been killed-I realize that. But at this point, what do I have to live for? My family is dead, my reputation is ruined, I-"

"You want something to live for?" he snapped, drawing her against his chest. "Then I'll damn well give you something."


	11. Through the Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to heat up between Meg and Billy...

**XI.**

In one swift motion, Billy grasped her waist, and pulled her against him. Before she could react, his mouth plunged to claim hers. The heat and passion of his kiss was entirely different from the gentle brush of his lips just a few hours earlier, and the surge of sensations that coursed through her body was so powerful that she felt her knees almost buckle underneath her.

In response, Billy smoothly slid his hands to the curve of her bottom, guiding her hips against his. When her lips parted ever so slightly, he deepened the kiss. She gasped, and stilled for an instant, clutching the folds of his shirt.

Billy drew back a fraction, his earnest blue eyes searching her face. Swallowing, he took one of her hands in his and placed it against his chest. She felt his heartbeat, strong and steady, pulsing against her fingers. He was silent for a moment, then spoke, his voice husky with emotion.

"Meg, I promise that you are safe with me. Just say the word, and I'll stop."

She gazed at him for a long moment, then placed the palm of her free hand against his cheek. "I trust you, Billy. I just-was not expecting this."

He raised an eyebrow, then lowered his voice to a register that sent a thrill through her body. "So, what did you expect?"

"Nothing," she blurted out.

The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he lowered his mouth to the hollow just above her collarbone. "So, you've never imagined what it would feel like to have me kiss you...here?"

As his lips explored the sensitive skin, she arched her neck, suppressing the moan of pleasure that threatened to escape from her throat.

"Yes-I mean no! This exact scenario has never played out in my mind."

Billy chuckled. "But others have." His confidence was infuriating, but he was kissing her neck now, and the sensation was so pleasurable that Meg found it very difficult to keep following the thread of the conversation.

"I …I...didn't say that," she murmured, gliding her hands over the planes of his muscular back.

"Maybe not in so many words, but your body tells me a different story." The sky outside was heavy with clouds, and lightning flashed outside the small porthole. Billy paused for a moment and rested his cheek against hers, his breath warming her skin as he spoke. "By the looks of the weather, we've got a long night ahead of us. Perhaps we should get to bed."

"But we're still soaked to the skin! I couldn't possibly sleep like this."

He laughed quietly. "Well, pirates can be quite resourceful... we might be able to arrange something."

As if on cue, a knock came at the door. Joji poked his head in, and gave Billy an inquiring look.

Billy casually set Meg down, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Come in, my friend. We are both safe and sound, thanks to you."

Joji's dark eyes studied Meg's flushed face, then returned to Billy. He raised an eyebrow.

Pretending not to notice, the boatswain said cheerfully, "Actually, it's fortunate you happened by. We're in need of some dry clothes-and perhaps some something to eat or drink? As the Captain's confined us to quarters, with nothing but each other, we're in quite a fix."

"So I see," Joji replied dryly, his eyes betraying his amusement as he headed to the door. "I'll be back."

Fifteen minutes later, he returned, carrying a small basket of food and two bundles of clothes wrapped in burlap. Meg thanked him, and began to set out the meager provisions on the bed.

Billy walked Joji to the door, limping slightly as his leg began to pain him again. Glancing over his shoulder, he spoke in an undertone."You did choose appropriately as far as clothes for Meg? She's a minister's daughter, not a whore working the fuck tent."

Joji gave him a reproachful look.

The boatswain relaxed, and clapped him on the shoulder. "I knew I could count on you. I owe you one."

Nodding, his shipmate ducked through the door, closing it behind him. Once outside, a smirk stole across his face as he strode off, whistling under his breath.

Billy turned back to Meg, his hand involuntarily going to his leg. "Perhaps we should change first."

He saw her glance down at his thigh, worry creasing her brow. "I should take a look at your leg. You might have bled through the poultice I placed earlier."

He shook his head. "I can wait. You should get into some dry clothes."

She took his hand, and led him to the bed."No, let's take care of you first. That way, I'll have my old things on when I dress the wound."

"Practical, you are," he murmured as she gently pushed him down to the bed. "A very appealing trait in a woman...even if you are a bit bossy."

She clucked her tongue. "So like a man to temper a compliment to a strong woman by calling her bossy." She rolled up the leg of his breeches, exposing his wound. Blood had seeped through the poultice, and he flinched slightly as she touched the edges of the gash. Meg looked up at him, her grey eyes softening. "I don't know how you were able to fight in your condition. Brave, you are. A very appealing trait in a man."

The dark lashes that framed her eyes fluttered as she cast her eyes down, then smiled up at him once again. Billy felt his body begin to stir.

_Damn. Just with a look. How the hell am I going to spend a night in the same room with her?_

He shifted his position slightly and shrugged, taking in a deep breath as she began to unwrap the bandage. "Most of the time, bravery is really just about being able to put your fear to the side long enough to get the job done. Sometimes everything happens so quickly that you don't even have time to think." His throat caught when he thought of her slim body pressed against Flint, the Captain's blade digging into the creamy skin of her neck. "But when I saw Flint hold that knife to your neck-" He swallowed, shaking his head. "I've never felt a fear like that before."

"I'd never have known," she murmured, glancing up at him. He saw something indescribable flicker in her eyes for just an instant-and then it was gone. Meg flushed slightly, and turned her attention back to cleansing the wound. Fifteen minutes later, she stood back and smiled, surveying her work. "I think that'll do."

"Thank you," he said, catching her hand and giving it a quick squeeze. "You were very gentle. I'll take you over the surgeon anytime."

She laughed. "I hope I'm prettier than he is."

He grinned. "I can assure you of that. Now toss me my garments and turn your back. Unless, of course, you want to help me with my small clothes."

A flush stole over her face once again, and Billy couldn't help but imagine what she would look like in the aftermath of lovemaking...delicate skin rosy with pleasure, dark hair tumbling around her shoulders. He gritted his teeth, willing the image out of his mind.

_Fuck. This is absolutely ridiculous. But it's been too long since I've had a woman. And she is so innocent that she has no damn idea what she's doing to me._

"I think you are mended well enough to sort that yourself, Mr. Manderley," she said, her tone prim but her eyes teasing as she brushed her fingers against his cheek.

He sensed she'd read his thoughts, and averted his eyes, suddenly feeling like a gawky fifteen year old boy with his first infatuation.

_Innocent then, but not oblivious._

Meg untied the small package, and brought him the sack that held a change of clothes. He sighed in relief. "They're actually mine. Thank God. I was afraid he'd just grab something from the chest of extra clothes. When you're as tall as I am, it's always hard to find things that fit properly."

"Go on, then. I wasn't hungry 15 minutes ago, but now I'm starving." She turned her back, and walked over to the porthole. "I wonder what he brought for me."

Billy pulled on his breeches and reached for his shirt. "He didn't say. Why don't you take a look? I'm done, and my eyes are scrupulously directed at the wall."

He heard her untie her parcel, followed by a rustle as she slid her dress off.

"I can't wait to see," she said wryly. "Perhaps a pair of striped calico breeches? Or a gentleman's shirt that two of me could fit into?"

Billy chuckled. "God forbid there be two of you." An image suddenly filtered into his mind, and he shook his head vigorously.

_Think of Silver, and how he's annoying as hell. And how the special "welcome stew" Randall made for him had a rat in it. Think of anything but how Meg's just a few feet away, undressing._

He stifled a groan, and flopped back on the pillow.

"Oh my." Her voice had a note of genuine distress.

"What?" he asked sharply. "Are you alright?"

"I-yes. Everything's fine."

There was silence for a minute, then two.

Billy cocked his head, listening. "You're not changing. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong." The bright cheerfulness in her voice sounded forced to his ears. Then there was a moment's hesitation. "Erm, Billy? How long do you think it will take for our clothes to dry? An hour or two?"

"More like all night, in this weather. Whatever he gave you to wear, just put it on," he said, growing impatient. "I'm hardly one to be aware of the latest fashion trends. I could care less if the lace is the wrong pattern, or the ruffles not as-ruffly-as they should be. I'll never even notice."

A strangled laugh came from behind him, and he heard her begin to move. "I somehow think there is no way you'll fail to notice this."

He closed his eyes, hearing her light steps heading towards the small table where the food was.

_Remember how vulnerable she must feel._

"Meg, it's fine," he said soothingly. "You're on a pirate ship. Our dress code is as relaxed as they come."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said faintly. "A question-is the rum Joji brought very strong?"

"Depends upon where he got it from. There are several stocks on the ship. Flint watches over the strong stuff like a hawk, but Joji is stealthy as they come. If it's too strong for you-"

She cut in, her voice high and nervous. "I'm afraid it won't be strong enough."

He heard her uncork the bottle, and his mind began to race. "Meg-tell me what's wrong. I can't help you unless you talk to me."

She made a despairing sound, halfway between a sob and a whisper. "Look at me."

He eased himself into a sitting position, then opened his eyes, only to have his jaw drop. Meg was wearing a filmy silk chemise of the palest pink that left little to the imagination. The whisper soft folds clung to her curves, emphasizing the womanly figure that had been hidden under her usually demure dress. Her firm, high breasts were displayed to full effect by the plunging neckline, which was accentuated by a delicate pink ribbon. His eyes lifted to hers, and the misery and embarrassment he saw there made him pity her.

Shrugging his shirt off, he stood up and went to her, placing it around her shoulders.

"Here. You need this more than I do."

Her eyes filled with tears. "All I can think of is if my father and mother could see me like this-" She shook her head numbly. "Everything they hoped and dreamed of for me…"

"You're still the same person you've always been," he murmured, putting his arms around her. Meg buried her face against him, her soft hair tickling his bare chest. He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the faint scent of rosewater.

"What was that you said to me? That you wouldn't accept that the essence of a good man could be altered by actions that he has been forced into by circumstances beyond your control? The same applies here."

She looked up at him, her grey eyes full of despair. "Society has a different sort of expectations for a woman of marriageable age."

"You more than meet my expectations," he murmured, kissing her forehead once, then twice.

She choked back a sob, and he felt a tear drop onto his chest. "You don't have to say that."

He took her face in his hands. "I would never say anything to you that I didn't mean. Never. And when I saw you just now-" he felt a catch in his throat, and his voice became husky. "God's truth, Meg-I thought you looked like an angel. Not just because of how you were dressed, but because you had the intelligence and courage to summon Joji in the middle of a fierce battle in order to bail me out of a tough spot. You saved my life, sweetheart-and you have given me a reason to live. So don't you dare quit on me now, because we are just getting started."

Meg stared at him, her eyes searching his face. She then stepped back, and Billy let his hands drop.

Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she let his shirt slip to the floor.

"Then show me, Billy. Show me what it means to really be alive."


	12. All That Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up between Meg and Billy when they are confined to quarters. Meg is summoned to see Flint.

**XII.**

He took a step closer. "Are you sure?"

Meg reached up and caressed his face. Her breath caught as his hands settled on her waist once again.

"What I am sure of is that right now, there is no one else I'd rather be with," she murmured. "You have shown me that even after all the heartache and loss I've suffered, there is still much to look forward to. For a while, I really didn't believe I'd ever be happy again."

He raised an eyebrow as his hands slid up to rest several inches below her breasts. "And what exactly are you looking forward to?" As his thumbs traced slow circles over the thin material of her gown, Meg's heart began to pound.

"I-I don't quite know. As you are my tutor, so to speak, I suppose I shall have to leave the manner and pace of the lessons to your discretion."

He gave her a cocky smile. "I think I'll have no trouble keeping your attention focused. But in order to prevent your stomach from distracting you while I am trying to reinforce a certain concept, I suggest we eat first."

Meg felt her bravado suddenly evaporate. She blushed, and dropped her gaze. However, when her eyes met his bare chest, she found herself unable to look away.

"See something you like?" he inquired, a teasing tone creeping into his voice.

"I was just thinking how hungry I am," she said hastily, turning away. She went over to the table and lit a candle with the match Joji had left them.

His strong arms closed around her, and Billy drew her against his chest. "Liar," he murmured, kissing her just below her left ear. He chuckled as she squirmed in his arms.

"I am not! I am just hungry."

Billy released her, grinning as he picked up the bottle of rum. He took a swallow, then passed her the bottle. "You are avoiding the question. When we have a situation where a member of the crew is being less than forthcoming, there is a time honored tradition aboard the _Walrus_ of playing a certain drinking game. Ever heard of Questions and Commands?"

"No." She eyed him dubiously, then took a sip from the bottle, blinking as the liquid warmed her throat.

His smile broadened. "Then i'll have the pleasure of introducing you to it. But first, we eat."

They sat down and ate in companionable silence. After they finished, Billy set the bottle in the middle of the table, and leaned forward.

"Now, this game is taken very seriously on this ship, and I've learned from the best there is. Flint is a true master of the strategy that's involved. The premise of the game is that each player in turn must take a drink, then choose either to answer a question-truthfully, I should emphasize-" He gave her a narrow look, then continued, "Or obey a command given to them."

"And what if you don't want to answer the question or follow the command?"

"Per the Flint rules, there is no alternative." Billy lowered his voice. "But there is another variation that I have played in other settings that does allow for another option. Since I am a gentleman, I'll allow you to choose. Do you want to play by the traditional rules? Or would you rather follow a set of rules that offer an alternative?"

"What's the alternative?"

"If you refuse your question or command, you must take off an article of clothing. Your choice as to which." A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "Of course, you would be at somewhat of a disadvantage, seeing as how you have only a chemise on."

Meg promptly got up from her chair and retrieved his shirt, slipping it on over her shoulders. She turned to give him a confident smile. "Now that I've got an insurance plan, I'll take the amended Flint rules."

"Feeling a bit cocky, are you?" Billy leaned back in his chair, wincing slightly as a bolt of pain shot down his leg.

"Not cocky. Just composed. Now one more question-what subjects are off limits?"

"None."

"None?" she swallowed. "And as far as the commands-what exactly can one be ordered to do?"

"Well, we are somewhat limited in that we are confined to this room for now. So you can't command me to go find Flint and tell him he's a vicious, cunning prick. But you could command me to warm your bed tonight." He paused for an instant, then grinned. "That's just a random example, understand."

Meg rolled her eyes, and chose to ignore him. "So the possibilities are endless, in a way. I suppose that's where the creativity comes in."

"Exactly." Billy nodded, and eyed her speculatively. "I think you'll catch on quickly. Since I am a benevolent master, I'll allow you to go first."

She thought for a moment, then gave him a sly glance. "Alright, Mr. Manderley. Question or command?"

Billy took a swig from the bottle, then set it down with a thump. "Question."

"What is one embarrassing story I should know about you?"

"Hmm." He cleared his throat. "I once had much too much to drink-it was my birthday, understand, and it was our first proper week off in months-and danced a hornpipe at one of the Nassau taverns."

"That's it? Dancing the hornpipe?" Meg gave him an incredulous look. "Come on, you can do better than that."

He reached for the bottle again. "Well, I was naked-and had a woman's wig on."

She laughed, and looked at him mischievously. "Let me guess-long blonde hair?"

"That's the one." He raised the bottle in salute, and took a drink. "Now your turn, Miss Davies. Question or command?"

He passed her the rum. Meg raised it to her lips, took a deep breath, then swallowed, coughing as the liquid burned her throat. She glared at Billy, who appeared vastly entertained. "Command."

"You will come over here, sit very prettily on my lap, and tell me exactly what you were thinking when you were staring at my chest earlier."

She lifted her chin, her mouth set in a stubborn pout. "That's three things! You can only ask me to do one."

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Kiss me-with passion-until I count to 10."

Meg stood up, her back straight. She made sure she was modestly covered by his shirt, then came over and stood in front of him, her shoulders squared. "Define 'with passion.'"

Billy's eyes locked with hers. "I think you know exactly what I mean." His speech was ever so slightly slurred, and she guessed that lack of sleep was causing the alcohol to take effect sooner than it normally would have. He reached for her, the muscles in his arms rippling in the candlelight. Meg, powerless to resist, felt herself take a step forward. He guided her onto his lap, settling his hands possessively on the curve of her bottom. She blinked, and realized that she was straddling him, her hands on his shoulders.

"You are a very dangerous man, Billy Bones." She dimly recognized that her voice had subtly changed, and found it puzzling. She sounded sure of herself-almost seductive.

"Am I?"

Meg nodded, a smile stealing across her face.

"Then why are you smiling?"

"Because somehow, I quite like it." She leaned over, and touched her lips to the base of his throat.

He took in a breath. "That's a good start, Miss Davies, but you'll have to do better than that."

"Then start counting," she murmured.

"One."

Meg traced the length of one collarbone, then the other.

"Two."

She sensed a slight change in the contour of his smooth skin, and saw an faded, irregular scar several inches below his left collarbone.

"You were hurt," she murmured, pressing her lips to the scar.

Images flashed into his mind.

_Charles Vane. Tobias Nelson. Knives flashing through the air. Molly screaming._

"It was just a scratch. I barely remember how it happened."

Meg felt his body tense slightly under her hands.

"I suppose you have some things in your past that you don't want to remember. I feel that way myself often enough." Her tongue darted out to touch the slightly puckered flesh that marked the healed wound, and he gasped.

"Three. I'd just like to point out that you haven't reached my mouth yet."

Meg looked up, and gave him a wicked grin. "You didn't specify where I had to kiss you."

She kissed him again, inhaling his scent. He smelled of the fresh open air, with notes of musk and the herbs from the poultice. Meg laid her cheek against the hard surface of his chest for a moment, revelling in his warmth. He felt so solid, so strong. She could not recall ever feeling so safe.

"How did you get such an amazing body?" she blurted out, only belatedly realizing how awed she sounded.

His chest rumbled with laughter. "You're getting off task," he murmured teasingly, gently slapping her bottom.

Meg touched her lips to his skin. "You're a hard man to please."

"Four. I have to disagree. You're doing quite well."

His grip tightened on her hair slightly as she continued.

"Five...six...seven."

His breathing became more uneven as she warmed to her task.

"Eight..nine…"

Her tongue flicked against his nipple, and he stifled a groan.

"Christ, Meg…. "

Meg sucked on it ever so slightly, and he jerked against her.

"Ten." He eased her off his lap, his voice hoarse. "I'll give you full marks on that one. Now hand me the bottle and give me a question. I need a distraction."

She watched him drink, his throat working as he took two large swallows.

"If you could do anything-live anywhere-what would you choose?"

He sighed, and shook his head. "That's a hard one. I try not to spend time on what ifs. I didn't plan to become a pirate, but it's my livelihood now-my destiny. And not many pirates live long enough to ease into old age."

"Oh, Billy." The note of despair in his voice touched her heart.

"It's a fact, Meg," he replied curtly. She could feel tears pricking at her eyes, and his expression softened. "But to answer your question, I suppose I'd choose to own my own merchant ship-or maybe shipping company. I'd spend the winters in the Caribbean, and the summers in England. God, how I miss the beauty of an English summer morning...the grass shining with the dew, roses scenting the air with their fragrance, children laughing as they play tag on the way to school…" His eyes were faraway, and she reached for his hand.

"That future could be yours someday, Billy."

"Perhaps." He shook his head, then gave her a smile."But right now, it is your turn."

She dutifully took a swig of rum, noting that it seemed much smoother now.

"Question or command?"

Meg locked eyes with him. "Command."

"You seem to enjoy having me order you about."

"Don't get used to it," she replied lightly.

"Then take off my shirt-and it stays off for the rest of the evening."

"You think that will give you some sort of advantage?" Meg inquired, arching an eyebrow at him.

He smirked. "It would seem so, doesn't it?"

She whipped the shirt off, tossing it to the bed.

"Your turn, Mr. Bones."

Picking up the bottle, he drank, wiping his mouth with his hand.

Meg looked at the flask. "It's funny, but the more we drink, the better it seems to taste."

Billy laughed. "A common occurrence with rum." He cocked his head. "Let's mix it up. Command this time."

"Okay." She thought for a moment. "The first command you gave me-but on the bed."

He shifted slightly in his chair, and cleared this throat. "Let me get this straight-you want me to take you over to the bed, and kiss you until you count to 10?"

"Kiss me with passion," she clarified, unaware that her grey eyes were sparkling in a way that made Billy nearly come undone.

"Thank you for clearing that up," he said, suppressing a smile as he eased himself out of his chair and came over to her. "Since I still have an injured leg, be a good girl and make this easy on me. Stand up on your chair and put your arms around my neck."

She climbed onto her chair, swaying slightly as she laid her hands on his shoulders. Billy swung her into his arms, looking down at her with concern. "Are you alright? You don't feel sick, do you?"

She smiled up at him, and ran a finger over the stubble on his cheek."Not at all. Never felt better, in fact. God, I never realized a man with a day's growth of beard could be so attractive."

As chuckled, and headed toward the bed. Meg leaned down, reaching for the bottle. "Wait! Don't forget to the bring the rum to bed with us."

"To hell with the rum," he muttered.

"Billy, we're not in hell." she smiled, and put her finger to his lips. "I can tell, because you're here with me."

"Okay." He laughed out loud.

"You're making fun of me." She gave him a reproachful look as he leaned over to put her in the bed.

"I am not." Suddenly, he stumbled. His leg gave way, and they tumbled onto the bed.

"Fuck!" Billy gritted his teeth as a spasm of pain tore through his thigh. Meg, pinned under him, froze.

"Billy, are you alright? What can I do?"

"It'll pass-just give me a moment." He rolled off her, closing his eyes and gripping his lower thigh. "I'm sorry, Meg. For my language- and for nearly crushing you to death with my bulk."

"It's alright." Meg turned onto her side. "Even my father had moments where he resorted to language that was somewhat salty, shall we say? And as you can see, I am quite undamaged."

He opened one eye, and turned his head to glance at her. "There is still the matter of the command you gave me."

She swept her eyes over his body, and gave him a dubious look. "Do you feel up to it?"

In one smooth motion, he drew her to him, pressing her body against his. "Let's see, a beautiful woman who was lost to me long ago suddenly re-appears in my life and ends up in my bed." The corner of his mouth quirked up. "I'm more than up for it." He kissed her then, his lips warm and gentle. "And you?" Billy nuzzled her neck, his breath on her skin causing her to feel a pleasant ache deep in her belly.

"Yes," she breathed. His mouth lowered to meet hers, the kiss deepening as his tongue expertly teased her lips into parting for him. He tasted of whiskey, the peaty notes betraying its Scottish origins. One warm hand stroked the soft skin just under her right breast, causing her to melt into his touch. A wave of desire swept over her, and she placed her hand on his, moving it up to cup her breast. He squeezed it gently, and she moaned, arching her back. Her nipple slid from underneath the thin fabric, the hard pink nub beckoning his mouth.

"Meg…" he was breathing heavily now, her name almost a moan.

"Billy… please."

He hovered above her for a moment, his mouth surrounding the pale pink areola. Then his tongue swept across her nipple, the sensual friction making her gasp. The feeling was exquisite, a jolt of pure pleasure shooting from her breast to somewhere deep between her legs. When he began to suckle, she dug her nails into his back, the sensation almost sending her over the edge.

"Wait for me," he rasped, one hand tearing at his breeches.

"I-don't-"

"Wait!" His voice was urgent now. He guided one of her hands to settle at his groin, and her eyes widened as he allowed her to explore the length and breadth of him. Taking in a slow, ragged breath, he placed his hand over his, urging her into a slow, rhythmic motion.

As his mouth returned to her nipple, she moaned. An uneasy feeling was roiling in her lower abdomen, a sense of building frustration that demanded some sort of release. When his hand settled on her other breast, his thumb and index finger stroking and caressing the nipple, a spasm of pure ecstasy tore through her. Meg cried out his name, then felt his muscular frame shudder against her at the same time.

His whole body shook once more, and she felt his release.

"God, Meg, you're sweeter than I thought possible," he rasped, his lips skimming over her breast.

Another wave of sensual pleasure shot through her belly.

"Billy, what are you doing to me?" she cried out, stiffening against him. "I can't stop-"

He laid his hand over her mouth.

"Shh, sweetheart. You'll rouse the entire ship."

Meg stared at him, her eyes hazy with desire. After a few moments, she felt the last rhythmic echoes fade away, and relaxed against him.

He removed his hand, and gave her a lingering kiss. When he finally drew back, she glanced at him, suddenly feeling shy. "What was that?"

Billy tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and smiled. "That, Miss Davies, was-"

The door suddenly shook as someone pounded against it. "Billy-Miss Davies-I've a message from the Captain."

Meg saw a flicker of annoyance cross Billy's handsome features. "Silver."

"Ignore him," she whispered. "He'll go away."

There was silence for a moment, then Silver spoke once again.

"Miss Davies, the Captain has decided he wants a word with you. Alone. I'll be back in five minutes to take you to him. And please be ready on time-his temper only gets worse if he's kept waiting."


	13. XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg is summoned to Flint's cabin, and finds herself caught up in events beyond her control.

**XIII.**

Billy stood up, pulling on his breeches with a savage tug. He leaned against the wall, the light from the candle revealing the thin sheen of sweat on his torso.

"I don't like this," he muttered. "You seeing Flint by yourself. You don't know what he's capable of."

Meg sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. The blissful afterglow that had warmed her entire body had evaporated the moment Silver had banged on the door. She stilled, trying to focus on calming the knot of panic that was growing in her stomach.

Billy came over to her, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. "I don't like the idea of the rest of the crew seeing you half dressed." His voice caught, and he picked up his shirt, draping it protectively around her shoulders.

"I'll be careful, Billy."

"Meg.." he touched his forehead to hers, his thumb caressing her cheek. "I don't do this sort of thing...well, I mean, I have-but what I'm trying to say is that I don't take what happened here, between us, lightly."

Meg flushed and stared down at the floor, wishing it could swallow her up. "I'm not so naive as to think you've never been with a woman before. You're under no obligation to me. It just has been so long since anyone has held me, and I...I wanted you. God help me, but when you kissed me, I.." Her voice trailed off as she struggled for words.

"You're not just a diversion for me, Meg," he said softly. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she closed her eyes.

A knock came on the door once again.

Billy muttered something under his breath, and reluctantly pulled away from her. "Stay here for a moment." He went to the door, a limp noticeable in his gait. Opening the door, he glared down at Silver. "I need a word." Stepping outside, he closed the door firmly behind him.

The sky was still dark, the cloud cover heavy. The sea was restless, the waves choppier than usual.

"I really should be getting on," murmured Silver, his hands toying with a small pewter flask. His eyes darted down the deck towards Flint's cabin. "The Captain-"

"Fuck the Captain!" growled Billy, grasping Silver's shirt and shoving him against the wall. "What's he up to? Because I know he's not summoning Meg just to chat."

Silver raised his hands, his blue eyes wide. "To be honest, Billy, I haven't a clue. You know how he is."

Billy narrowed his eyes. "Really? I find that hard to believe. Because ever since you set foot on this ship, your main goal seems to have been to worm your way into his confidence."

Silver laughed uneasily. "I think 'confidence' is a bit of an overstatement."

Billy tightened his grip on Silver's shirt. "If anything happens to Meg-anything at all-I'll hold you personally responsible. Understand?"

Silver nodded hastily, and Billy released him with a scowl.

The erstwhile cook flashed a nervous smile. "I really don't think you have anything to worry about." He suddenly looked down at the flask in his hand." Oh, by the way, Joji asked me to pass this on to you." He handed it over. "He said it's the good stuff-said you might need it to keep your strength up…. _after the delivery earlier_  were his words. He said you'd know what he meant."

Billy kept his face impassive as he unscrewed the flask and took a swig of the smooth whisky that Joji knew he favored.

"Tell him I'm on to him….just like I'm on to you."

Silver shifted, his gaze sliding again to the Captain's quarters. "I really should be going."

"I'll get Meg." The boatswain stepped to the door, then turned, his blue eyes icy. "Remember, it's to your benefit to make sure she comes back to me safe and sound."

"Understood," Silver murmured.

When Billy returned to the cabin, he found Meg sitting on the bed. Her eyes were closed, hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"It's time," he said softly.

Meg opened her eyes, then stood up. Her feet were bare, and her dark hair fell loose around her shoulders. To Billy, she looked younger and more vulnerable than he ever remembered seeing her.

He gave her an encouraging smile. "You should know that no one has ever had a negative first experience in Flint's office."

"Never?" Her voice registered her doubts.

"Can't name one. If he wants to call you out, he'll do it in front of the crew."

She bit her lip, and looked away. "Perhaps he has a different approach with women. I doubt you've ever seen a female called on the carpet."

He stepped closer, and took her in his arms, burying his face in her hair. "Flint won't hurt you. I promise you that much," he murmured. "It's not his way."

"No, he'll just intimidate me," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "But that, I have experience with."

He drew back, taking her face in his hands. "You're more than a match for him, sweetheart. Remember that time you caught Hugh Marsdale teasing your auntie's cat?"

Her mouth curved into a hint of a smile. "That was one of my finer moments."

He laughed softly. "You must have been all of ten years old, and him a head taller than you-but you gave him such a dressing-down that Pauline Allan came outside and-"

"I forgot how he was always so sweet on her!" Her grey eyes lit up. "He followed her around like a puppy."

"A puppy that got put in the doghouse once she heard how mean he'd been to that cat." Billy's eyes crinkled in amusement. "You were always a feisty one, Margaret Rose. I couldn't help but notice you."

Her cheeks flushed. "I wasn't trying to get your attention."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not even once?"

"I-I never thought you'd see me as anything but your little sister's friend."

"No matter what I thought then," he said, his voice husky, "that is definitely not how I think of you now."

Before she could answer, his mouth was on hers, drawing her into a hard, passionate kiss that left her breathless. His hands moved to cup her bottom, reveling in the feel of her soft flesh under his fingers. Her own body responded reflexively, hips grinding against his legs. Just as their breathing began to quicken, Silver banged on the door again.

"Every goddamn time…" Billy muttered. "It's like he's got a f-"

"Shh…" Meg whispered, placing a finger on his lips.

He growled deep in his throat, scowling at the door. Then he took in a deep breath, his eyes warming as they returned to hers. Kissing her forehead, he smiled, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "Take care of Flint and get back to me as quick as you can. I've got some ideas for our next lesson."

A few moments later, Meg stepped out of the cabin into the cool night air, a thin blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

"I'll be back before you know it," she said lightly, squeezing Billy's arm.

"I'll be waiting," he murmured, then watched her walk away.

Silver had lit a lantern, and the light lit their way as he guided her past coils of rope and barrels of pitch. Just before they disappeared into the darkness, she turned back and gave Billy one last smile.

The lantern cast a warm glow over Meg's body. Her face was delicately flushed, lips rosy from his kisses. The glossy dark hair tumbling around her shoulders was still in disarray from his roaming hands. But it was her luminous grey eyes that took Billy's breath away. They shone with yearning-no, desire. It filled him with an indescribable joy. He watched until he could see them no more, then retreated back into the cabin.

He drank deeply from the flask, envisioning her dreamy expression once again. Then a thought occurred to him, and his heart sank.

_If I can see it, so will Flint. He'll know the second she walks in the door._

xxx

When Meg entered the Captain's quarters, she saw Flint sitting at his large mahogany desk. He looked up from a document he was reading, fixing his keen eyes on her for a long moment. Then he motioned for her to sit on the wooden chair in front of him, and returned to scanning the paper in front of him.

The desk was of simple construction, and was securely bolted to the floor in order to keep it from moving when the seas were rough. A small box sat at left hand corner, the polished wood and brass trim glowing in the candlelight. Next to it, a battered spyglass stood neatly telescoped, the mark of its manufacturer worn from years of use.

Flint finally finished, and rolled up the paper, neatly tying it with a frayed red ribbon. Settling back in his ornately carved chair, he gave her a penetrating look.

Meg shifted in her chair, struggling to maintain an outward appearance of calm. She forced herself to meet his gaze, and saw his mouth curve into a predatory smile.

"So, you've been confined to quarters with Billy. Have you had any luck bringing him back to God?" His eyes traveled down her body, the thin chemise exposing her legs below her knees. "It does appear as though you are using some unorthodox methods. But then again, after a stretch of self-imposed celibacy, Billy is known to become rather single-minded in his pursuit of pleasure."

"I beg your pardon?" Meg gave him an cool glance.

Flint shrugged. "I'm not judging you. Merely making an observation."

"You, Captain, are far from being in a position to judge anyone."

"Really?" Flint stood up, strolling around the desk. Coming to a halt behind her, he placed his hands on the arms of the chair, then leaned over her, his mouth close to her ear. When he spoke, his voice was low, the tone menacing. "Because I think I have the measure of you, Miss Davies. And you will do exactly as I instruct you, or I will make very sure that you never see Billy again."

xxx

The small dinghy scraped against the soft sand, the dull thud shaking Meg from her thoughts. She blinked, glancing at the horizon. The pale pink flush of dawn was just visible at the cusp of the horizon.

"We're here." The fat, middle-aged man lumbered out of the boat, sniffing at the air. He glanced at the hollow-eyed youth that sat in the stern, then jerked his thumb at Meg, motioning for her to get out of the boat. "You're on your own now, missy."

Meg waited for a moment, then realized he was not about to offer to assist her. With one hand on the gunwale, she cautiously made her way to the stern. Gathering her skirts into one hand, she stepped out. Her shoes sank into the wet sand, and she grimaced.

The man chortled with laughter, his large belly shaking. Then he coughed and spat, aiming a stream of tobacco juice at Meg's skirts.

She gave him an indignant look, and he guffawed in response. "Just addin' a realistic touch to your dress. After all, you've spent the last couple of days in the presence of uncouth pirates, aye?"

"Many of those men were more civilized than you, sir!" She shook out her skirts and tried to pull her foot out of the sand. It sunk further, and she redoubled her efforts. Finally, a soft sucking sound was heard, and her shoe shot out of the sand with a loud pop. Losing her balance, she fell headlong onto the sand, twisting her ankle in the process.

The stab of pain that jolted up her leg brought tears to her eyes, but Meg forced herself to her feet. She ignored the jeers directed at her from the dinghy, which was rapidly pulling away from the shore. Her eyes searched the lush vegetation, looking for the path that led to Nelson Hall. Finally, she spotted the two stately palms that marked the track. Taking a deep breath, she limped across the expanse of sand, then began to thread her way along the winding path that led to the stately mansion.

As she walked, the morning dew dripped from the leaves of the tropical plants, stray drops cooling her heated skin. Bright tropical flowers were opening to the first rays of the sun, their petals fresh and unspoiled. Meg stopped for a moment, leaning against a palm tree to rest her ankle. She brushed lumps of wet sand off the skirt of the worn grey dress that Flint had ordered her to wear when she left the ship.

_You wanted me to look the part, didn't you?_

Closing her eyes, she imagined she was once again safe with Billy, his strong arms holding her securely against his body. A feeling of peace floated over her for an instant, and then her heart twisted in her chest.

_What will he think when he reads the letter?_

She shook her head in despair, the tears now falling freely.

_I'm not cut out for this. Flint expects me to lie to people I care for-to manipulate them to serve his own ends. And I have no idea what his ultimate goal really is._

" _Why am I doing this?" Flint had echoed her question, fixing her with a cold stare. "That is none of your damn business. But you should have strong motivation to finish your task quickly and quietly. After all, you've fallen hard for Billy, haven't you?" He laughed scornfully. "You never had a chance, did you? The virginal minister's daughter, in the hands of an experienced, handsome pirate. I bet you were the easiest conquest he's made in years."_

_Meg stood up, her eyes flashing. "How dare you! What makes you-"_

_The Captain seized her chin, his strong hand snapping her head up to meet his gaze. "I'm not stupid," he snarled. "When you walked in the room, I could practically smell Billy on you. So I suggest you shut up and follow my instructions to the letter. As I said, all you need to know is that I have the power to make Billy vanish from your life forever. And I can assure you if he were to disappear, you would not want to know the details of his fate."_

As she skirted the edge of the sprawling lawn, the fragrant scent of plumeria blossoms drifted through the air. The delicate perfume should have defused some of the tension in her body. Instead, she felt her agitation increasing as the familiar smells and sounds of the island surrounded her.

She finally climbed the steps of the pristine white porch that ran along the front of the sprawling plantation house. Her ankle had swollen rapidly, and her shoe was now cutting into the bruised flesh. Leaning against the door for support, she pulled the rope that ran alongside it, and heard the deep tones of a bell within the great hall. There were hurried steps from within, and the door flung open, revealing the tall, thin frame of Mr. Andrews, the butler that had come with Tobias from England. The scowl on his face disappeared the instant he saw Meg, replaced by a look of astonishment.

"Who is it, Andrews?" called Tobias Nelson impatiently. "It's barely past the crack of dawn, for God's sake!" He shouldered his way past his butler, then stopped in his tracks as he took in the sight of his ward. The girl was absolutely filthy, and looked as if she would collapse with exhaustion at any moment. "Meg? Good Lord, what has happened to you?" He gently took her arm, guiding her into the hall.

She took in a shaky breath, then recited the lines she had rehearsed in Flint's cabin.

"It-it was horrible. I was taken against my will, and held hostage by Captain Flint." The room spun around her, and her vision began to dim. "It was only by the grace of God that I managed to escape. But something terrible is brewing, Tobias. You've got to stop them. No matter-"

Before she could finish, the darkness closed around her, and she knew no more.


	14. Chapter XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Meg tries to readjust to civilization, Billy tries to come to terms with her absence.

**XIV.**

Billy rolled over, vaguely aware of a throbbing in his head that refocused his mind from the dull ache in his leg. He tried to open his eyes, but the fatigue that flooded his body was overwhelming. He drifted back off to sleep, his mind soothing the uneasiness that threatened to bubble to the surface.

_She's only been gone a few minutes._

Little did he know that nearly six hours had already passed.

xxx

Meg could hear voices rising and falling around her. She dimly sensed herself being carried up the stairs by a strong male presence. But it was all wrong.

This man did not have Billy's easy, long-legged stride. He moved with measured, precise steps, carrying her as if she were a fragile porcelain doll that must be protected at all costs. She had always felt safe with Billy, but he had somehow been able to make her feel secure and cherished, not imprisoned. The arms that held her now were unyielding.

The next hour felt like a dream. She recognized the soft voice of Naomi, one of the house slaves, urging her into the warm bath. Naomi scrubbed her body pink with a soft sponge, erasing any trace of the salty tang of the sea from her skin. Next, she washed Meg's long, dark hair, massaging her scalp gently while singing a lilting song under her breath. Meg, her brain dulled by fatigue and misery, tried to decipher the meaning of the words. Gradually, she realized they were not English, but some sort of African dialect.

Ten minutes later, she sat at an elegant dressing table, comfortably seated on a high-backed carved chair with a pink silk cushion. Looking into the mirror, she saw a pair of vacant, listless eyes staring back at her. Her skin was pale, devoid of its usual flush of health. Naomi glanced into the mirror for an instant, then averted her eyes. She began to sing again, her voice soft and sweet.

Meg watched as Naomi began to brush her hair with a silver brush, the handle glinting in the morning sun. "That song," she finally murmured. "What does it mean?"

The slave hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, "It is a song that the women of my tribe sing when we are troubled. It is a song to remind us how strong we are." She placed a hand on Meg's shoulder. "Miss, no matter what you suffered at the hands of those men, you cannot let it break your spirit." Her voice caught for an instant, and she resumed brushing Meg's hair. "I am sorry," she murmured, her eyes anxiously darting to Meg's. "I speak when I should not presume to do so."

Meg fell silent, her thoughts preoccupied with Flint's instructions. Having finished, Naomi handed her a cup of a sweet smelling liquid.

"Here, miss. Mr. Nelson says you should drink this. It will help you sleep. You need rest." She curtsied, then left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Meg obediently drank from the cup, then slipped under the cool white sheets of the four poster bed. Minutes later, she drifted off to sleep, unaware that she was being watched.

xxxx

_The sea was rough, the storm unrelenting. Billy kept Meg secure against his body as he swam towards shore. Flashes of lightning streaked across the heavens, illuminating Meg's face as she lay on her back, staring up at the sky. Her face was white, her eyes full of terror. But she had stopped struggling, and that was a good thing._

_"We're almost there!" Billy had to shout to be heard over the wind. "See, there's the shoreline of New Providence straight ahead. Once we get past the outer reef, we'll be safe." Then, from out of nowhere, a huge wave hit them with incredible force. Meg shot out of his grasp, propelled into the dark ocean depths right before his eyes. He took in a lungful of air and dove. The usually clear blue water was murky, silt churning up from the ocean floor to make visibility almost zero. Suddenly he saw her, lying against a large rock that materialized in front of him. He kicked, trying to reach her, but found that he had somehow become entangled in a length of fishing net. He thrashed about, struggling to get free as he saw Meg's beautiful grey eyes dimming, the life draining out of her body..._

His head hit the wall, and he sat bolt upright, his heart thudding in his chest. His pulse roared in his ears as his eyes darted around the room, frantically searching for Meg.

"Where is she?" he rasped, the hoarseness of his voice taking him by surprise.

"Somehow I knew that would be the first question you asked." Silver leaned against the small table, eyeing him with curiosity.

Billy swung his legs over the bed, his brain slowly recognizing the mellow, golden light of the setting sun. "Wait a minute. It's sunset? What the fuck is going on here?!" He stood up, and felt his head spin. Something was not right.

Silver cocked his head, giving his crewmate a knowing grin. "It appears as if someone was making rather merry last night."

Billy snatched the pewter flask that lay on the floor next to him, shaking the last drops onto his palm. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a white residue floating amongst the golden drops of whisky.

"You drugged me!" He lunged for Silver, who attempted to sidestep him. However, he had misjudged the length of the boatswain's arms. Billy knocked him off balance, and they both crashed to the floor. In an instant, Billy had his hands around Silver's throat.

The cook gasped, "You are quite mistaken. I can assure you, I-"

"Flint may buy your bullshit, but I don't for a second!" Billy snapped. "One last chance-tell me where she is, or you will regret the day your sorry ass ever stepped aboard this ship!"

"The Captain-he-" Silver struggled to breathe, and Billy loosened his grip slightly. "He told me she pleaded for safe passage back to Nassau, and he granted her request. I don't-know any more. I swear."

Billy released him, and strode to the door. Opening it, he turned and looked back at Silver. "I'll deal with Flint first, then I'll be coming for you." Slamming the door behind him, he set off for the Captain's quarters, brushing past the crew on deck without a word. The men, seeing the look of fury on his face, focused their attention to the task at hand, avoiding eye contact with the boatswain.

Billy shoved the door of Flint's cabin open without ceremony, then kicked it closed. He stood breathing heavily, his fists clenched at his side. "Where is she?"

Flint, sitting at his desk, met his gaze levelly. "Where she should have remained from the beginning-out of harm's way, and with her life as she knew it on New Providence."

"Do not even-"

Gates stepped out of the shadows, and placed a warning hand on Billy's chest.

The Captain stood up, leaning over the desk. "It's all about you, isn't it? You are so blinded by lust that you have not a thought for the welfare of the woman you supposedly care for."

Billy's eyes blazed. "Says the man who held a dagger to her neck just twelve-no wait, I've been drugged by your minion Silver, so I suppose it's been more like twenty four hours ago. Is there something here I'm missing? Since when did you become the champion of the innocent?"

"Easy now, son," murmured Gates.

"I have news for you, Billy," Flint snarled, coming around the desk to face the tall young man. "We don't live in a fucking Utopia. Life is not black and white...it's a hell of a lot of shades of gray. And the sooner you learn that, the better." Reaching inside his black leather coat, he pulled out a folded letter, the simple wax seal still intact.

"Read this. Then see if you still disagree with my decision to honor Meg's wishes."

_Dear Billy,_

_I hope you will forgive me for taking leave of you in such a cowardly manner. Over the past few days, I have come to realize that my presence here only serves to put you in danger. You told me I was not a diversion, but I am afraid that is exactly what I am. I shudder to think of what might have happened had you and I been alone when Lieutenant Chalmers and his men came upon us. I know you would have sacrificed your life for me if necessary, and I cannot-will not-allow you to do that._

_The only way I see out of this impossible situation is for me to return to Nassau-to resume my previous life. I will pray for your safety and well being every day of my life, but I beg you-please do not attempt to contact me. Nothing good can come of our meeting again._

_With God's blessing and mine,_

_Meg_

Billy reread the letter, more slowly this time. He then tossed it onto Flint's desk, his jaw tensing. He shook his head, his eyes fierce. "This is a lie." He turned to Gates. "You don't believe this, do you?"

"Billy, I saw her write it with my own eyes," the elder man said softly. "No one compelled her to do so. Not me, not the Captain. I know it's hard for you to accept, but perhaps it's better this way."

"Better for who? For him?" Billy gestured at Flint, his voice trembling with anger. "So he can continue to manipulate us?"

"Enough, Billy," said Flint curtly.

"That's exactly how I feel," snarled Billy, his mouth twisting into a savage, triumphant grin. "For you have your own secrets, Captain. And I just so happen to be privy to one that would turn this entire crew again you in an instant." Pulling out a letter, he held it up just long enough for Flint to recognize Miranda's elegant hand, then returned it to his jacket.

The Captain met his gaze coolly. "Are you really so paranoid that you would concoct some sort of outlandish story in order to discredit me?"

Billy stepped closer, lowering his voice to an undertone. "It's not outlandish, and it's not a story. And you damn well know it."

Gates stepped in between the two of them, pushing them apart. "I think it best you both take a moment to cool down, aye?"

The quartermaster's fingers wrapped around the boatswain's forearm with an iron grip, and he steered him towards the door. "Let's take a walk, Billy," he murmured.

"This isn't over!" shouted Billy, glowering at the captain as Gates dragged him out the door.

"Oh, yes it is," Flint murmured, walking back over to his desk and spreading out a map of New Providence. "Because Margaret Davies is going to be the means by which we destroy Tobias Nelson."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy has questions, but Gates doesn't have answers. Meg returns to civilization, and finds herself in an awkward situation.

**XV.**

Gates guided Billy to a far corner of the foredeck, away from the beehive of activity around the main mast. He slid a crate towards Billy.

"Sit down."

The boatswain stared at him for a long moment, then complied. Gates sat down heavily, then sighed. "You have questions."

"Damn right I do."

"Well, I have some of my own. What's in the letter you showed Flint?"

Billy's jaw tightened. "The Captain plans to betray us to the authorities-in exchange for a pardon for himself and safe passage for him and the Barlow woman to Boston."

"What?" Gates' eyes widened, then he shook his head adamantly. "No, I don't believe it. That's just not possible!"

"Why not?"

"Because that's not the man I know!"

Billy's eyes narrowed. "How well do any of us really know him? All I know is he came to the Bahamas from England about six years ago. No one knows his real story."

The quartermaster leaned over, lowering his voice. "A lot of men come to the Caribbean to forget their pasts-or to invent new ones. I'd wager that many of the stories the men on this ship tell about are not exactly gospel truth."

"Still, he's cagey, even when you ask him something directly." Billy stared out at the setting sun. "Yet he expects us to obey him without question."

"Billy, when you joined the crew, you swore an oath-"

The younger man's head snapped up. "I know what I swore. But I did not agree to become the pawn of a man who seeks to exploit his crew for his own personal gain!"

"You don't know that for a fact," murmured Gates, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot.

"Maybe not. But I am certain that Meg did not leave this vessel of her own free will."

"Billy, I saw-"

"I know what you saw!" Billy shot back. He was silent for a moment, visibly struggling to control himself. When he continued, he spoke in a murmur. "But what if she was compelled to write that letter? Threatened by Flint in such a way that she was forced to follow his instructions? You have to admit that's entirely within the realm of possibilities."

Gates took in a deep breath. "I might have thought so, had I not rowed her out to Palm Cay myself."

" _You_  were the one who took her away?" Billy felt as if he'd been punched in the gut.

Yes. I volunteered," Gates met his eyes with a steady gaze. "I wanted a chance to talk to her-alone."

Billy leaned closer. "So you had doubts too."

"I did. That is, until I spoke with her."

A seagull swooped over them, it raucous cry jarring against the relative quiet. The quartermaster hesitated, then continued, choosing his words with care.

"There were only the two of us in the longboat when we left the  _Walrus._  I tried to make conversation as I rowed, but she was quiet the whole way in. As we neared shore, I set the oars down and asked her straight out if she'd been compelled to leave the ship. She just shook her head. So I asked her what I was to tell you. Told her that just from the few moments I'd seen you with her, I knew you'd take it hard."

Billy swallowed. "And what did she say?"

"That you must let her go," Gates said gently. "That she had realized that the longer she stayed on this ship, the more of a liability would become for you. The last thing she wanted was to see you dead because you had sacrificed your own safety to ensure hers."

The boatswain stood up, then turned and leaned on the railing, his muscular arms taut with tension.

"Leave me," he said, his voice hollow.

"I just-"

"Leave!"

The elder man laid a hand on Billy's shoulder for a moment, then walked away, his steps echoing on the weathered planks.

xxx

The gentle morning breeze stirred the long white curtains, allowing the morning sun to filter into Meg's room. As her eyelids fluttered open, she found herself staring at a large bouquet of white roses, artfully displayed in a crystal vase.

She sat up, momentarily disoriented. Her head ached, and the bed seemed to be rocking underneath her. Then a peacock screeched outside the window, and she recalled where she was.

_Nelson Hall. I suppose it will take some time to become accustomed to solid ground again._

A light knock came on the door, and Naomi came in, carrying a silver tray with a jug of water and a fresh towel. She curtsied, then said, "Good morning, miss. If you are feeling up to it, Mr. Nelson asks that you join him for breakfast on the veranda."

Meg swung her legs over the edge of the bed, feeling momentarily lightheaded. "In truth, I could sleep another ten hours. But I should go. I know he probably has questions for me."

"I believe Mr. Nelson is still trying to make sense of it all," said Naomi softly. "After all, he had been gone for a week, and had no idea you were even missing. He had only returned from Port Royal several hours before you showed up at the door."

Meg sighed. "At least my ankle feels much better today. I should be able to make it downstairs without hobbling."

An hour later, she sat in a cushioned chair on the veranda, the morning sun flooding the lush tropical garden that encircled the flagstone patio. Butterflies fluttered back and forth, dodging busy hummingbirds that darted from flower to flower. The serenity should have been a balm for Meg's soul, but she found herself fighting the urge to get up and start pacing.

She closed her eyes for a moment, consciously slowing her breathing. The soft hum of a bumblebee and the gentle sigh of the breeze through the palms were worlds away from the cacophony of sounds on the  _Walrus_. She was an introvert by temperament, and usually found noise and and activity draining. Somehow, it had been different on the ship-perhaps because she had been drawn into what had seemed like a parallel universe.

The crew had taken her by surprise. To be sure, some of them fit the stereotypical image of a pirate-coarse men who were covered in tattoos and spoiling for a fight at the slightest provocation. Then there were the others-the taciturn Joji, with his impish sense of humor; Silver, the handsomely raffish man with the practiced charm of a successful politician; and Flint, the captain who was a conundrum.

Although he had not been reticent to speak in way that was openly threatening, she had sensed that he was not the violent, bloodthirsty psychopath that popular legend described him as. The shelves in his office had been filled with leather-bound books, many worn with use.

" _May I?" she had asked, glancing at the volumes._

" _Please, go ahead." He leaned back in his chair, watching her as she ran her hands over the spines._

" _Marcus Aurelius." Picking it up, she turned to him. "You quoted him earlier."_

" _He was a brilliant strategist and philosopher."_

_Opening the book, she read aloud, "'Because a thing seems difficult for you, do not think it impossible for anyone to accomplish.'" Meeting his gaze, she asked, "Is that what you would have me think?"_

_He steepled his fingers, regarding her speculatively. "You ask what I think? I think you are much stronger than you appear. You, Miss Davies, appear to be possess a combination of traits that is most unusual in a woman of genteel birth-intelligence, beauty, and courage. And I think that is exactly why Billy is drawn to you."_

_She flushed, then bit her lip, struggling to keep her voice level. "I am merely a reminder of home. Our families were close when we were children."_

" _Oh, I think it is more than that." Standing up, he circled around his desk, his blue eyes glittering in the candlelight. "But if you want Billy to have a future, you will have to play your part with skill. And no one-I mean no one-can know, except for my contact inside Nelson's household. And that person will make himself-or herself-known to you, once you have proven that you can be trusted."_

_Meg closed the book and put it on the shelf. "And how will I do that?"_

" _I have good reason to believe that there is correspondence going on between Tobias Nelson and a man in London by the name of Woodes Rogers. At the first available opportunity, you will search Nelson's office for any letters from Rogers. If they are found, I want the most recent one."_

" _Can I not just-"_

_He cut her off. "Not a copy. I want the original, in Rogers' hand."_

_She took in a deep breath. "Do you realize what you're asking me to do?"_

" _Something you're more than capable of doing," he replied curtly. "Once the letter is in your possession, you will place it behind a loose brick in the wall of the bakehouse. Second row up, third brick from the left."_

"I'm happy to see you looking rested."

Tobias' warm, deep voice caught her unawares. She jumped, her knee jostling the table and sending a delicate teacup tumbling to the ground. It shattered, spraying jagged pieces of porcelain across the veranda.

"I'm so sorry!" She started to get up, then felt a soothing hand on her shoulder.

"It's not your fault," he said quietly. "Not after what you have endured."

Her nerves were on edge, and suddenly, it was all too much. Unbidden tears sprang to her eyes. She was being forced to spy on her guardian-a man who had shown her nothing but kindness-at the direction of the most feared pirate captain in the Caribbean. A man who had threatened to separate her from Billy forever.

_I can assure you if he were to disappear, you would not want to know the details of his fate._

Her vision blurred as the tears began to flow freely.

"Did they-" he hesitated, then plunged on. "Harm you in any way?"

She shook her head, and Tobias breathed a sigh of relief.

He sat down on an ottoman next to her, and took her hand in his, pressing it to his lips. "I blame myself," he said, his voice catching. "When your mother was dying, I promised her that I'd take care of you-get you settled in Nassau, make sure you were comfortable and safe, and ensure that you made a good match with a man who cared for you." He laughed bitterly. "And what have I accomplished? You have been held captive by pirates, and the home you were in has been reduced to ashes."

Meg looked up, her face white with shock. "What?"

He bowed his head for a moment. "Another colossal mistake. I forgot you didn't know. I just received news of it last night." Taking in a deep breath, he met her gaze, his hazel eyes sober.

"Meg, in the very near future, British rule over New Providence will be re-established. It is likely only a matter of weeks now. Since my arrival in Nassau, I have been working covertly for the Crown to gather intelligence. With hard work and a bit of luck, I have cultivated a network of informants that have proved invaluable. Name a man on this island, and I can tell you his strengths and weaknesses, and whether he can be trusted to fight on our side when the time comes. Because it will come, sooner than expected. And I assure you, those who remain loyal to the criminals who have been running this island will die by hanging, just as the pirate scum that took you captive will."

"But David and Agatha...they are-" A knot formed in Meg's stomach as she thought of gentle Agatha, who so loved the yellow and pink roses that she had planted outside the bakery. She also had a soft spot for David, who had been kind and merry from the day she had met him. During the long days in the bakehouse, he had often kept her in stitches with his jokes and stories.

"Dead," said Tobias tonelessly. "David Semple was one of my informants. The same morning you went missing, he was found dead in an alley by the harbor, his throat cut. Agatha died an hour later when the bakery went up in flames. I expect the neighbors thought you had burned to death as well."

Meg shivered.  _If not for Billy, I might have been dead as well._

Then a memory from the Walrus came to her, and her blood ran cold.

_Flint shook Billy roughly, and raised his voice to a near shout."I said, did you see it done?!"_

" _Done," Billy rasped, his eyes still closed. "Cut-cut his throat my-myself."_

"God, no.." she whispered, standing up and burying her face in her hands. "Please, no."

"I wish I could have spared you this," Tobias murmured. He put both hands on her shoulders, and slowly turned her around to face him. "I did what I thought was best in the wake of your mother's death, but it seems as if I have done nothing but cause you more pain."

He put a finger under her chin, and gently tilted her face up to meet his. "But that ends today, for I want nothing more to fulfill the promise I made. So, Margaret Rose Davies," he said, smiling down at her. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

 

 

 

 


	16. XVI.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg searches for information in Tobias' study. Billy and Flint have a showdown during a storm.

**XVI.**

Suddenly, the soft ocean breeze seemed to roar in Meg's ears. The ground lurched underneath her, and she gripped the edge of the table, determined to regain her poise.

"Tobias, I owe you my life. I will never forget what you did for me and my mother. But right now, I am emotionally and physically exhausted from the events of the past few days, as are you. I would do you a disservice by giving you an answer-either way-that I am by no means equipped to make right now."

Her eyes caught the flicker of annoyance that passed over his face, and she hastily added, "Please understand, Tobias. It was--"

"You're telling me you need time," he said slowly, turning away and gazing out across the lush green grass.

She placed a hand on his arm pleadingly. "Isn't it for the best? Especially if we are on the brink of the British return to Nassau? It's hardly the time for a wedding."

He looked down at her, his gaze serious. "What better time to begin our life together? It will be a time of new beginnings. A time where I will take my rightful place in the forefront of the new Governors administration."

Her eyes widened. "The new Governor has already been selected?"

"He has. A man by the name of Woodes Rogers. He was head of the committee that commissioned me to go to Nassau, and the King has seen fit to bestow the title of Governor upon him...in no small part due to the success of my intelligence network."

Her thoughts began to race. "Then are we to expect him in a matter of days? Weeks?"

His thumb gently traced a path across her cheek. "That, my dear, is a closely guarded secret. One that not even you may be privy too. But when the Crown's forces land, it will be under cover of darkness...and completely unexpected."

She did her best to summon an encouraging smile. "It sounds as if your plan has been well thought out. I have no doubt that you will meet with success."

Tobias raised an eyebrow, his eyes warming. "You have redeemed yourself with your gracious compliments, my lady." He took her hand and kissed it, his lips lingering on her skin for an instant. Straightening up, he released her, giving her a charming smile.

"For now, I will not press you for an answer. But be advised, we will revisit this topic in the not too distant future. I can be quite persistent once I make up my mind."

xxx

It was past midnight when Meg finally mustered the courage to slip out of her room. She stood barefoot in the hall, her white dressing gown wrapped tightly around her slim body. Cocking her head, she listened, straining her ears for any sound that resembled human activity. Hearing none, she stole down the corridor to the marble staircase, wincing with each step as her warm feet met the cold stone.

Reaching the entrance hall, she stopped again, holding her breath. All was silent. She took the hallway to the left, halting when she came to the door that led to Tobias' study. It was slightly ajar. She touched her fingers to the wood with the lightest of pressure, causing it to open another two to three inches. An instant later, she was standing in the middle of the room.

Moonlight filtered through the rose window that sat in the eastern wall of the study, illuminating the portrait of Tobias' grandfather that hung behind the carved rosewood desk. The tall, sober figure of Thomas Nelson stared down at her disapprovingly, his sharp blue eyes seeming to follow her as she made her way to the drawers of the desk. Your imagination is too fanciful, she scolded herself.

In a flash, she saw herself in the sunlit parlour of the little manse in Kensington, her sewing lying forgotten in her lap.

_Twelve year old Meg held up her grandmother's faded blue star-shaped pincushion to the light, watching as the frayed golden tassels swung in the air._

_Her mother gave her a troubled look. "Your imagination is much too fanciful, Margaret. It is unseemly for a young girl to be so preoccupied with spinning fantastic tales."_

_"But Mama, everything is not always as it seems!" The little girl turned to her mother, her words tumbling over each other as her eyes shone with excitement. "Father says often enough that we shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Don't you ever like to imagine where something has been? Or what things it might have seen? Maybe Grannie sewed a handkerchief for a long-lost love with this little star sitting by her side...or perhaps a beloved aunt gave it to her, with a gold ring hidden inside it to serve as her dowry!"_

_"Grannie married at 15, so a long-lost love would have been one she had when she was in nappies," said her mother dryly. "And if you're suggesting we cut this cushion open-"_

_The girl shook her head, her expression turning pensive. "No, Mama. It's just the idea of something seemingly insignificant having a history...having been important in some way. It just makes even the most mundane thing seem interesting and new. Does that make sense?"_

_Mary Davies sighed. "Not really." She put down her sewing and looked at her daughter closely. "Margaret, I hope you don't say such silly things outside of this house. No one wants to marry a woman who whiles away her time daydreaming."_

Meg's arm brushed against a delicate ivory figurine, and it toppled off the small table behind the desk. By great good luck, she managed to catch the statue just before it hit the ground. Her heart thudding, she clutched it to her chest for a full minute, then carefully placed it back in position.

_Think. If you are Tobias, where do you keep important correspondence?_

he surveyed the half dozen drawers, and decided to search the left side of the desk first. Tobias Nelson was methodical to a fault, and his papers were neatly organized and alphabetically filed. The leather ledgers were labelled with corresponding expense accounts- household or business, and embossed with the initials THN. Tobias Hayward Nelson.

She flipped through the business ledger quickly, searching for any correspondence hidden within. Expenses for the shipping company were listed by category, and were uniformly unremarkable until one column caught her eye…miscellaneous assets. There were rows of initials, followed by various sums of money in a second column. The third column, however, was puzzling at first glance. Revenge, Nymph, Trident...then a word jumped out at her. Walrus.

_These must be the names of pirate ships...and the initials the names of men whom Tobias has recruited to spy for him. Her finger traced a line from Walrus to the set of initials opposite it. WM._

William Manderley. No, that was impossible. Given Billy's antipathy for Tobias, it made no sense. And even if it were true, he surely would have been listed with the initials BB for Billy Bones. Perhaps this was someone else's assumed name? She racked her brain trying to think of the names of the various men she'd met on the ship. To be sure, she had only been introduced to a small portion of the crew, but no one else had those initials.

She closed the book, taking a deep breath. Those two letters could mean anything, and might in fact have nothing to do with anyone on the crew. But the account likely somehow was tied to payment for intelligence relating to those ships…the ones he deemed most likely to put up resistance.

Fifteen minutes later, Meg had found no trace of any correspondence. Frustrated, she opened the top right drawer. A well-worn Bible met her eyes, and she picked it up. The edition was one her father had favoured. As she opened the book to Psalms, she could almost hear her father's voice as he read to them on a dark winter's night. As she turned a page, a piece of paper slipped out, fluttering through the air and coming to rest on the desk.

Picking it up, Meg moved closer to the window. When she saw a salutation followed by several hastily scrawled paragraphs, her heart skipped a beat. By the time she reached to the final lines, it had begun to hammer in her chest.

_As you know, a period of amnesty for those guilty of heinous crimes has been proposed. I am wary of such a plan, for I fear such men understand only one language-that of the sword. An amnesty would likely only encourage them to regroup and return in a united force. I think it far better to plan to condemn these criminals on the spot, and carry out sentencing with a swift and terrible justice._

_Your spies have given us ample evidence to justify the execution of the entire crew of several ships...the Walrus and Ranger among them. It is of the utmost importance that we take these crews by surprise. In order to come up with a sound plan, I suggest we meet at the place agreed upon, six weeks from the date of this letter._

Her eyes instinctively swung back to the top of the page. The letter had been dated five weeks and two days prior. She had five days to get word to Flint and his crew...and the same period of time to convince Tobias to take her with him.

xxx

They had expected the squall to be a fierce one, but this storm had been one of the worst the crew had weathered in some time. The rain came down in sheets, lashing the men relentlessly as they struggled to maintain control of the ship. The Walrus lurched from one wave to another, the motion causing even the most experienced seamen to feel a twinge of nausea.

"Hard to believe it was a peaceful, moonlit night just a few hours ago. This is a bad one!" shouted Gates. Billy shook his head, wiping the water out of his eyes. "It's a fuckin' mess, that's what it is!"

A sharp crack reverberated over the sound of the winds. "The foremast just snapped!" someone shouted.

Billy was on the move in an instant, dodging sliding crates and scrambling over coils of rope that were heavy with seawater. He saw Flint flattened against the rail of the ship, desperately trying to keep a section of the damaged mast from pitching over the side of the ship.

"Secure the aft part!" Billy yelled. "I'll take the section on the rail. I'm taller. It makes more sense!"

Flint hesitated for an instant, then gave him a brief nod. As he switched positions with his boatswain, Flint shouted, "what's in the letter, Billy?" The wind howled for a few long seconds, swallowing his words.

"The what?" Billy's voice was becoming hoarse.

"The letter you showed me the other night. The one you said would turn the crew against me."

The taller man, his clothes plastered against his skin, eyed the Captain warily. "I think you know exactly what it says."

"Tell me anyway." A flash of lightning made Flint's pale blue eyes look almost unearthly for a moment.

Billy hesitated for a moment, the familiar fear of the captain gripping him once again. Then he took in a deep breath, his muscles straining as he tightened his hold on the wooden pole. "I know your whole plan. Mrs Barlow outlined it clearly enough. You will betray us in order to get a pardon for yourself and safe passage for the two of you to Boston. You-"

A massive wave washed over the deck without warning, sending Billy over the rail. There was an instant of pure terror, and then he felt Flint's hand grasp his wrist. Almost by reflex, the instinct for self-preservation kicked in, and he reached for the railing with his other hand. Just as his fingers brushed against the wood, he felt the Captain's grip on him slip. Then he was falling, the air rushing up to meet him as another wave crested.

He hit the water flat on his back, the force knocking the wind out of him. Just as he took in a deep, shuddering breath, a wave smashed down on his body, dragging him down into the cold, green depths below.

xxx

It was hot. Ungodly hot.

Billy had spent many an afternoon toiling under the Caribbean sun, but this heat was blistering.

Unrelenting.

His eyes were closed, but he sensed that he had been lying flat on his back in the sand for quite some time. The low, rasping squawk of a brown pelican jolted his nerves into full awareness. His left elbow was horribly cramped, and he tried to shift his arm, attempting to get some relief. However, he was brought up short by a flash of pain from a rope digging into his wrist.

He experimented with his right wrist, and then both legs. A stab of panic shot through his body as he realized that all four limbs had been restrained. He tried to take a deep, steadying breath, only to find the expansion of his chest halted by a hard shell that encased his entire torso. A moment later, a sharp, shrill whistle sounded from just a few feet away.

His eyelids flew open, only to squeeze shut as a fine layer of sand was flew directly onto his eyes. He shook his head, blinking rapidly in order to try to clear the offending substance. The ensuing irritation from the sand caused his eyes to water more fiercely. A curse rose to his throat, but only a hoarse croak issued forth from his lips.

"Awake, are we?" The cultured, sardonic voice that spoke up seemed to echo in the recesses of his brain, sparking a vague memory.

Billy coughed, then grimaced, but said nothing.

When the blow came, he had no warning. His head snapped backwards as a burst of pain blossomed out from his left eye socket. An instant later, everything went black.

 


	17. XVII.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy endures torture at the hands of the English. Meg accompanies Tobias as he goes to meet with Woodes Rogers.

  
**XVII**.

Meg sat in the stern of the small pirogue, shielding herself from the fierce sun with a white damask parasol.. Her rose silk dress, although made of the lightest possible fabric, clung to her skin. The air was heavy with humidity, and she could feel sweat trickling down her back.

A fly suddenly buzzed around her head. The noise startled her, and she swatted at it with irritation. Her usually steady nerves were on edge. She had followed Flint's instructions exactly, and had left the letter behind the brick in the bakehouse wall within an hour of finding it. When she had checked the hiding place under cover of darkness that night, she had found the letter gone. However, Flint's spy had not revealed his or her identity. The uncertainty fed her uneasiness. She was sure that Tobias would soon discover the letter missing, and would somehow find out that she had taken it.

As the canoe glided through the clear blue water, she saw Tobias glance at her free hand and frown. She was twisting the folds of her dress through her fingers, wrinkling the fine material. He captured her hand in his, forcing her fingers to still. "Are you sure you're up to this?" he asked in a low voice, giving her a penetrating look.

"What I do not need is more rest. Had I sat in my room any longer, I think I should have gone mad!" Realizing she sounded ungrateful, Meg summoned a smile to her face, and hastily added, "Thank you for understanding that I needed a diversion."

He leaned close to her ear, and murmured. "A diversion is all well and good, but you must promise me it won't involve a handsome naval officer." He brought her hand to his lips, then kissed it, the cool pressure of his mouth a striking contrast to her heated skin. "Fetching as you look today, that there will not be a man on that island who will be able to resist your charms."

She colored slightly. "I thank you for the compliment, but I do not plan on being the center of attention."

"Good." The boat hit a larger wave, and he put a steadying hand on the small of her back. "Have you given any more thought to our conversation the other night?"

She chose her words with care. "To be truthful, I have focused on rest and recuperation for past few days. Now that I am feeling more like myself, I can give you and your…" She glanced at young slave at the bow, who was readying the boat for landing. "Proposals..the proper attention that they deserve."

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile. "The proper attention? It appears as if a favorable wind may be headed my way."

She lowered her eyes demurely, catching a glimpse of a beach looming ahead, the golden sand sparkling in the bright light. "Are we already there?"

Tobias squinted at the beach, shading his eyes with his hand. "We are...but the welcoming reception Is not quite what I had anticipated."

"How do you mean?" She followed his gaze, and saw a large canvas tent set up on the beach. Two British soldiers sat at a table underneath it, playing a game of cards. They were at ease, their regimental coats unbuttoned to reveal their sunburned necks, which were streaked with dirt. Two other soldiers stood nearby, outside the tent but still able to enjoy the benefit of the shade. Atttired in their resplendent red uniforms, muskets in hand, they stood guard over a civilian. The prisoner lay on his back, spreadeagled on the sand several feet from the soldiers. His hands and feet were tied to stakes, and he was exposed to the full force of the midday sun.

"What in heaven's name…" Meg stopped, her throat catching as her heart filled with compassion for the prisoner. "That man must be in torment! How can such a thing be allowed?"

"I presume he's a pirate," said Tobias, his eyes lighting up with interest. His hand slid to his sword, gripping it with an intensity that Meg found unsettling. "Lieutenant Hume has been hoping to capture one for some time."

Meg turned to him. "For what purpose?"

He gave her a dismissive look. "Intelligence, of course. Then there is the matter of improving morale. It's always good for the enlisted men to have someone to abuse when they are disgruntled with the food or the accommodations."

Her stomach turned when she saw the cruel twist of his mouth as he gazed at the scene in front of them.

An officer appeared from a barracks on the far end of the beach, skirting the edge of the sand until he reached the area directly in front of the them. The man then carefully picked his way across the soft white sand, taking up a position a few yards away from the place where the pirogue slid to a rest.

Tobias helped Meg out of the boat, then turned to the officer, who wore a smart dark blue uniform and a neatly powdered wig. "Good day, Lieutenant Hume. May I present Miss Margaret Davies, my ward?"

"Miss Davies." The lieutenant bowed, his cold, dark eyes flicking away from Meg for an instant, then settling on her again.

"It appears as if your fishing expedition has finally met with success," Tobias observed. He shaded his eyes once again to take a closer look at the prisoner. He nodded approvingly. "Quite a catch you have there. He's a big brute, isn't he? Which ship does he sail with?"

Hume pressed his lips together. "He's an arrogant ruffian-refuses to say much of anything, other than a few choice insults which are not fit for the ears of a lady."

"Then perhaps you need to be use more persuasive methods, Lieutenant," murmured Tobias.

The officer sniffed, and flicked a piece of lint from his sleeve. "Don't worry, sir. He'll break in the end. The Devil's Embrace works every time. It's just a matter of how long it takes."

"The Devil's Embrace?" Meg echoed. "What is that?" She took a step towards the tent. The glare of the sun as it reflected off the water made it difficult for her to get a clear look at the man. Thank God that Billy is safe. The Walrus is far away from both Nassau and Harbour Island by now.

He straightened his shoulders. "It is a very useful form of torture invented by a Spanish bishop. He used it to subjugate the recalcitrant native chiefs of Hispaniola who dared oppose the mass conversion of their people. The prisoner is outfitted with a leather vest that envelopes his torso, then left exposed to the elements. Within a week, the leather constricts to such a degree that it crushes the ribs, puncturing the internal organs. Death soon follows. It's simple, but brilliant."

Meg turned to stare at him."And if the man cooperates, and gives you the information that you need?'

Hume shrugged. "The same. We just don't have to keep him under constant guard once we've gotten what we want out of him. By that time, he's usually quite close to the end anyway."

Meg found his matter-of-fact manner repellent, but forced herself to keep her voice even. "Lieutenant, I am sure we can agree that no man, no matter what his crimes, deserves to be treated like an animal."

The Lieutenant barked out a laugh, and gave condescending glance. "With all due respect, Miss Davies, you have no idea-none at all-of how brutal these pirates can be. I would not let a woman of gentle birth within 10 yards, let alone 10 feet, of one."

Meg bit her lip, an uneasy thought coming to her. What if this man was someone like Billy? Someone who had been forced into a life of piracy because he had no other option? She could not just walk away without offering whatever comfort she could to the unfortunate prisoner. But how could she get a few moments alone with the man?

"I'm sorry," Tobias was saying. "You know how soft-hearted women can be. My ward is a committed Christian, and -"

Meg stepped forward, seeing an opportunity that was not to be wasted. "Has someone prayed with this man?" Surely he merits the chance to seek God's grace."

Hume ignored her, stiffly turning to Tobias. "Sir, perhaps we should adjourn to my dining room. I fear the heat is having an adverse effect on Miss Davies' reason."

"Yes, because it is clearly unreasonable to offer a prisoner the opportunity for spiritual support during a time of suffering!" Meg's grey eyes blazed with anger.

Giving the officer an apologetic look, Tobias took Meg firmly by the arm, and drew her off to the side "Listen to me," he muttered, his jaw tightening."While I admire your principles, I cannot afford to have your presence here jeopardize my future position with Governor Rogers."

"All I'm asking for is a few moments to pray with a man whose soul may yet be saved," replied Meg, lifting her chin and returning his stare."It is the right thing to do, and you know it, although you will not admit it."

"Is it the right thing to do is to make me look like an idiot?" he snapped. "To make me look like I cannot control my own ward?"

"For God's sake, Nelson, the Governor-elect is waiting!" burst out Hume, losing his patience. "If Miss Davies wants to spend a few moments succoring a man who is already on the road to hell, let her. He's been unconscious most of the afternoon anyway."

He turned to the two men at the table. "Morton! Cawley! Brown and Smithfield will escort us up to the barracks. You two will watch the prisoner-and this woman closely." he narrowed his eyes at Meg, "Miss Davies has 5 minutes to pray with this lout. The second that time has elapsed, bring her up to the barracks. Since she is so keen on prayer, she can continue her devotions in the chapel whilst we are meeting with the Governor."

Tobias gave her a dark look. "We will discuss this later," he hissed. Turning his back on her, walked over to the Lieutenant. The two men on guard duty left their positions, preparing to escort Hume and Tobias to the barracks.

"Be careful, Miss," the guard closest to her said quietly as he passed by. "He can't hurt you, trussed up as he is, but these kind of men are coarse and Ill mannered. If he does anything to upset you, just back away or call out, and the soldiers will be there in a jiffy."

"Thank you," she murmured, walking to the edge of the tent. The glare of the sun was still blinding, and she could just make out the man lying on the sand. He was tall, perhaps almost as tall as Billy. His clothes were dirty, and his shirt was in tatters. His feet were bare, the soles black with filth. It was difficult to tell what color his hair was, as it was coated with sand.

Aware that she had only a few moments to offer the man some comfort, she stepped out into the sun. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the brightness once again.

The prisoner seemed to sensed her presence, and turned his head, moaning with pain as he did so. In that instant, her heart stopped. Although he was bruised and battered, there was no mistaking the features of the man in front of her.

She sank to her knees, heedless of the white sand and the bits of seaweed that clung to her dress. His left eye was swollen shut, the surrounding skin grotesquely stretched by dark purple bruises. The right eyelid fluttered for an instant when she breathed his name. She instinctively reached for his hand, only to recall that he was bound.

"We must ask you not to touch the prisoner," one of the guards drawled, only briefly looking up before laying down a card. "For your own safety."

"I must lay hands on him in order to offer a prayer for healing," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "I will be careful."

Billy strained weakly at the ropes, another moan escaping from his cracked lips as the rope chafed the raw flesh at his wrists. Blood dripped onto the soft sand, enlarging the red stains under his hands.

"Shh," she said softly, cupping his cheek with her palm. "I'm here."

Billy opened his one good eye, and her breath caught when she saw the suffering therein.

He tried to curl the fingers of his right hand into a fist, but did not have the strength. He spoke then, but his words were barely audible. "You….don't…know…" His voice failed, and his eyes grew desperate.

"I do know," Meg whispered, her throat tightening. She leaned over his body, her shadow providing him with a few blessed moments of relief from the sun. "I can see it just by looking at you. I cannot even imagine…" She placed a gentle hand on his forehead, hoping to soothe the angry red skin..

He shook his head, tears of frustration welling in his eyes. "Me...you can't…"

"You're going to be fine," she said, her voice becoming urgent as she saw the hopelessness in his expression. "I'lI find a way to get you out of here."

"No!" He spoke louder louder this time, prompting a sharp look from one of the soldiers.

"It's all right," she called out reassuringly, "God's grace is freely given to all who repent and turn to him."

Turning back to Billy, she lowered her voice."You must not wear yourself out. I'll get word to Flint."

"Listen to me!" he rasped, then coughed. . "So...thirsty." He ran his tongue over his blistered lips, searching for any hint of moisture.

Meg looked over her shoulder. "Some water for the prisoner! I believe he is ready to confess his faith, but the poor man cannot speak because his threat is so dry."

The taller of the two men, the buttons of his uniform straining over his belly, blinked, then glanced at his partner belligerently. "Your turn, Morty."

Other man, rail thin and bald, threw down his cards, shrieking in a pitch high enough to shatter glass. "This is a shit detail! Not only do I have to rot here in the fuckin' heat guardin' some fuckin' pirate who likely ain't smart to know a damn thing, I have to put up with your fuckin' attitude! Who made you my master?"

The other man stretched, then,took a long swig from his mug and smirked. "Shut up and give him some of the water over there." He nodded at a wooden pail a few feet away. "Show a little Christian mercy, Morton."

A slow grin split his partner's lips as he staggered to his feet. "You're right, Cawley. We are called to help the less fortunate, aren't we?" He took a wooden cup and scooped some water from the bucket, taking a long look at Billy as he did so. "And that poor bastard is most unfortunate, isn't he?"

Cawley guffawed. "That's for damn sure." He locked eyes with Meg, and his expression changed to a leer. "Although he does have a beautiful lady fawnin' over him. Perhaps I should get myself tied down and let her tend to me."

Meg flushed with embarrassment and turned away. Billy's eyes, which had been dull with pain, sparked in anger.

"It's nothing," she whispered, desperately wishing that she could tend to him properly. . "Ignore them."

"So many things…" he said hoarsely, then swallowed and closed his good eyes. "Wish I...had just…"

"Excuse me, Miss." Morton's words were slurred as he came up next to Meg.

"Give it to me," she said curtly.

He burped, and wagged a finger at her. "Not goin' to happen, missy! No one is to give the prisoner food or drink except for us. By orders of Lt. Hume."

"If he is displeased, I will I accept full responsibility," she replied evenly.

He hesitated, and she snapped. "For heaven's sake, Corporal! You poured the water yourself!"

He shifted uncomfortably, then handed her the cup. Scuttling back to the tent, he picked up his cards, squinting at his hand.

Meg glanced at the cup, then at Billy. "I'll pour some into my hand, then drip it into your mouth so you don't choke. How's that?"

He nodded, and opened his mouth eagerly as she cupped her hand and poured a tablespoon or so into her palm

He swallowed the first mouthful in an instant, then gagged and turned his head to the side, fighting the urge to vomit.

"Billy, what's wrong?" Meg heard a note of panic in her voice. Calm down-you can't help him if you lose your head. She cautiously put her tongue to her hand, and anger surged through her body. Salt water.

She rose in an instant, fury lacing her words. "What kind of men are you? There is a word for this-torture! You will give me something for this man to drink right now, or by all that is holy, I-"

"You'll do what?" Cawley jeered. He spat onto the sand, then raised his bloodshot eyes to hers. "Say a prayer for my soul?" In one quick motion, he pushed his chair back and stood up, grasping her arm so tightly that she winced. "Your five minutes is up, love. You're comin' with us now."

"But I-"

Morton seized her other arm, and before she could react, they had hustled out of the tent.

.As the soldiers dragged her away, a strangled cry came from Billy. He winced as he craned his neck in an attempt to see what was happening. He tried to force the words from his throat, but they came out in a croak. "Leave her…" His head sank back onto the sand as he watched Meg disappear into vegetation at the edge of the beach. "Alone," he whispered," closing his eyes in defeat as the word burned his throat. He strained at the ropes once again, then cried out as a muscle spasm tore through his left calf. The pain radiated down into his foot, and spots danced in front of his eyes. Awareness began to slip away from him as the clouds swirled above him in an ever more rapid circle. Why didn't I just tell her?

xxxx

"You need to stop fightin' us now," said Morton smoothly, steering her into a small clearing and digging his yellowed nails into her arm. He eyes strayed to the at the low cut neckline of her dress. "After all, we wouldn't want to have your lovely assets spoiled by association with pirate scum. What you need is a strong, upright military man."

"Or men." Cawley's lips brushed against her cheek, his foul breath causing her to jerk her head away from him. "What you need is someone to curb that feistiness .Good, old fashioned discipline, that's what I say."

"Preferably while in a horizontal position," chortled Morton, shoving her towards the ground with surprising strength. Cawley caught her by the arm, and clucked his tongue.

Meg felt a glimmer of hope. _Perhaps he is not the brute the other one is._ Her hopes were extinguished with his next words.

"Have you no imagination, Morton? This one, I think, might like it up against a tree." He pulled her against him, thrusting his hips against hers. "What do you think, darlin'? Fancy a bit of discipline from an honest country boy?"

An instant later, his jaw went slack, and he dropped to the ground like a stone, blood spurting from a gaping wound his side. A sword slashed across his throat, and he made a horrible gurgling sound, then lay still.

Morton seized her by the arm, whipping a knife to her throat in a split second. Using her as a shield, he backed towards the edge of the clearing."If you know what's good for you, you'll leave off! Now!" he quavered.

There was silence for a count of three, and then a low voice spoke. "Now why the fuck would I do that?"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More familiar characters to come...
> 
> If you have any thoughts about the story so far, I'd love to hear them!


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